The Equality Hypothesis
by Lust of Alucard
Summary: Wonder what the saga of Harry Potter would have been,if Harry was able,calm,a little less impulsive and had inherited the apparent genius of his parents? This is an attempt at the same, remoulding Harry to live up to his tag as the Dark Lord's equal...with a little help. Mentor Dumbledore, active McGonagall & Flitwick. Currently on first year. Will be H/HR in the future. AU. R
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter or its associated franchises. All characters are property of J.K.R and Warner Bros and other concerned agencies.

Prologue

_7 pm, July 31__st__ 1981, Godric's Hollow._

A cacophony of merry laughter pierced through the stillness of the summer evening, unheard by anyone in the near vicinity. In a cottage indistinguishable from its neighbours, had gathered a small mix of people, their eyes trained on an infant with emerald green eyes and a shock of black hair on his tiny head. For you see, this was Harry James Potter's 1st birthday, even though he was not aware of it. He merely giggled and gurgled and waved his little hands in the air, much to the pleasure of his parents and others.

James and Lily Potter had everything they needed in their lives, but their most precious possession was the baby in their midst. A baby, whose destiny had been foretold even before he was born, by a batty, eccentric lady who spent her days isolated in a drifty castle in Northern Scotland. This foretelling, or prophecy if you wanted to get technical, was precisely the reason why this happy family had been spending a few past months of their lives hidden magically, detached from the rest of the world in fear. Though, all of this was forgotten as the mood in the house at the moment was pure joy, all centred on baby Harry.

Along with James and Lily were present a few of their closest friends and confidantes. A man with handsome and elegant features, which had charmed many a woman was playing, (or attempting to do so) with the baby in the crib while exclaiming, "Not to worry Harry, I'll be there to show you the ways of snagging pretty birds when you start Hogwarts and this Voldemort debacle ends!". An exclamation, which was heard and responded to by the beautiful red headed-emerald eyed mother of the infant, or the Mrs Lily Potter nee Evans, motherly protectiveness coming to the fore in an instant. "Sirius Black, you'll do no such thing! No girl is good for my baby, especially the kinds you'll teach him to go after! Isn't that right, James?" James Charlus Potter, who was watching with barely constrained glee, lost all traces of laughter from his face. He cringed at the glare Lily was levelling at him and as such, going with the need of the moment, he immediately agreed with his wife and to save face, promptly began to wipe his glasses in a hurry and unnecessarily, given that they were already cleaned to a shine. Sirius pouted theatrically and turned to his other best friend, "Moony, can you believe it? The Legendary Prongs whipped into shape already! Oh woe is me, why did I agree with his choice of going after Lily?" Moony, or as known to the world in general, Remus John Lupin snorted in amusement. This kind of banter had been a prominent feature in dialogue when it came to this group of friends. He replied though, "Leaving your woe aside for a moment though Padfoot, where is Wormtail these days? Come to think of it, I haven't seen or heard of him in a few weeks. You have any idea?" Sirius' expression slipped for an instant and he looked uneasily at James for a few moments, not noticed by Remus, who at the moment was pulling faces at Harry to keep him amused. Lily noticed and frowned, knowing exactly what was troubling the two men. "Yeah, he has gone to his mother, she has not been keeping well for the last couple of weeks, you see? We received word yesterday", replied James. He and Sirius had been keeping things from Remus out of necessity and security, and had been feeling really guilty about it. Lily, ever the observant one, came to their rescue immediately. "Forget that, Peter will back in a month if all goes well, we should open presents, shouldn't we ?" she replied, successfully pulling the attention of Sirius and Remus towards baby Harry. "I know we should trust Peter & Remus, but it's a good thing we made that package, isn't it?" whispered James to Lily. She nodded, looking at Harry and praying, that all would be right and this nightmare would be at an end. They continued the celebrations, unaware, that outside their little paradise, things were shaping up to be not what they wanted at all…

* * *

_10:01 pm, October 31__st__ 1981, Halloween, Godric's Hollow_

Lily Potter was currently shielding her child from the _fiend_ in front of her, while all the time tears streamed down her face. James lay dead downstairs, his eyes wide and glassy as he had spent his last moments trying to buy her and Harry time, all for naught. The fiend in question, _Lord_ Voldemort had a kind of ghoulish glee shining out of his crimson eyes as he watched the _mudblood_ in front of him grovel and plead for the life of the snivelling whelp in the crib behind her. Lily saw the snakelike lips move, and the world went a sickly green for an instant and she knew no more.

* * *

_8:27 pm, November 1__st__ 1981, Privet Drive_

Privet Drive was a suburban locality of London and not the kind of place where you'd expect an eclectic mixture of people such as these to be meeting at. There stood outside number 4 in darkness, three people who could not have looked more out of place, even if they had tried specifically to do so. There was an extremely old man who looked as if he would drop dead at that moment, though his blue eyes belied his strength and wisdom, as they looked in grief at the little bundle in his arms over half-moon spectacles, this was Albus Dumbledore. Said bundle contained Harry Potter who was asleep at the moment, sucking his thumb and lost to the world. His forehead was marred by a lightning shaped scar which was raw and inflamed and certainly had not been there the last evening. The lady beside Dumbledore was a woman also getting on in years, though at the moment she looked at least two decades older that her actual age. Her features were lined with shock and anger warring against each other as she vehemently argued with Dumbledore. This was Dumbledore's deputy Minerva McGonagall, who looked anything but, as she lambasted the living daylights out of Dumbledore.

"You can't be serious Albus, this is a demented idea of the highest order! There is no reason good enough to leave Harry anywhere, let alone here, away from his heritage and the magical world!" "Of course Minerva, this pains my heart a lot, but it is precisely the reason why this must be done", said Dumbledore. He handed Harry to the _giant_ of a man alongside him as he tried to pacify McGonagall who was doing a remarkable impression of a lioness at the moment. Said man, Rubeus Hagrid was at least ten feet tall and was crying his eyes out as he took the infant in his arms. "Minerva, while I definitely do respect your sentiments, and it tears my heart to do so, but Harry needs to live here for his own protection. Since Lily's last act was of sacrifice, my belief is that placing Harry at this place where he shares blood with an inhabitant will invoke powerful wards which can transcend any protection I can give by use of wand and runes."

Dumbledore wiped his tired and age lined face with a purple star spangled handkerchief as he continued, "Anyway, I have stationed an old acquaintance of mine here. She'll be keeping an eye out for little Harry and you have my solemn word that I'll be checking in with her and Harry every month. Besides, I also have with me a few odds and ends such as his birth certificate and legal documents as well as a package that James and Lily advised me to leave with Harry wherever he may go, in case this sort of thing happened". Seemingly mollified by Dumbledore's explanation, McGonagall said, "Fine Albus, but do remember that I'll be also checking on him regularly. At the first sign of trouble he'll be out of here faster than you can say lemon sherbet!" Dumbledore smiled for a moment, and then turned to Hagrid and took Harry out of his hands, but not before Hagrid had laid a delicate kiss on Harry's forehead, and howled at the darkened sky in grief. He set Harry upon the doorstep in his crib, along with a box and letter, and cast a temperature regulation charm and a few keyed-in notice-me-not charms to protect Harry from the elements, both weather wise and human. "Good bye Harry, keep well and we'll be meeting soon", he whispered as stroked the infant's cheek. As Harry lay warm and snuggled in the bundle of blankets, the three people looked at him with the same loving expression and vanished, one turned into a cat and leapt away into the bushes, one sat astride a motorcycle that barely could hold his size and roared out of sight, and the last just plain disappeared in a swish of robes.

- End Prologue –

A.N : This is a humble attempt of mine to remake the Harry Potter Universe as per my ideas. Please read and review. Reviews will be appreciated, flames and flamers will be ignored. Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Do not own Harry Potter or its associated franchises. All characters are property of J.K.R and Warner Bros and other concerned agencies.

* * *

Chapter 1 – Seven Years Later

A few years had passed since that fateful Halloween and Privet Drive looked unchanged, untouched by the ravages of time. People still went about their daily businesses, and neighbors chatted over ivy lined fences, as they were prone to do to break the monotonous, routine and boring existence of life. Yes, this was a normal, boring neighborhood and yet, since that day things had changed fundamentally in the most normal looking house of them all. Inside Number Four, Privet Drive was a lady bustling about, laying dishes over the cloth clad dining table, calling down at the inhabitants of the house for breakfast. Said lady was thin and had a neck which looked way too long for her. She reminded you of a giraffe attempting to chew leaves of a particularly tall tree, as she trained her head towards the top of the staircase.

"Vernon, Dudley, come down, breakfast's ready", Petunia Dursley nee Evans called out to her son and husband. The noise that followed would not have been out of place in the wild, as it sounded like a rampaging herd of wildebeest as two overweight males came thundering down the stairs. The elder of them looked like the creator did not seem fit to grace him with a neck (perhaps to compensate for the amount of neck on his wife), as if his head had just been sewed on to his torso without said appendage. This was Vernon Dursley, the patriarchal figure in the house and he clearly passed on the bulk of his genes to his son. Dudley Dursley, or 'Dudders' or 'Neffy Poo', as his Aunt Marge called him, looked like he was well on his way to surpassing his father as far as weight and girth were concerned. He had a pinkish tinge on his face and looked like he had been given an overshot of celluloid in his toddler days, he was that massive.

The father and son duo set about demolishing their breakfast. Dudley devoured his breakfast with an urgency and vehemence that did not look out of place had this been a person suffering from famine, yet given the fact that Dudley ate approximately his body weight in food every day, it made you sick. The day being a Sunday, Vernon ate his portion at leisurely pace, as he looked at Petunia and asked, "_He_ not eating with us today?" Pursing her lips, Petunia replied, "No, he made his own and went out in the early hours of the morning." Vernon nodded, and returned to his plate.

* * *

The topic of their discussion was an eight year old boy and was currently sweating it out at the local dojo, as was his daily routine. He had sharp emerald green eyes that would pierce into you and unruly black hair that would simply not lie flat whatever he did. He was tall for his age, and had a mature face with a defined cheekbones and an angular jaw, only marred by a most unique lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. His face contained very less baby fat that would surely grow more handsome in the future. As the ladies of the neighborhood liked to say, and to quote, "_Oh you look so handsome! I can't wait to see what you look like in a few years!",_ much to the ire of his aunt Petunia. He was currently shirtless and sweaty, viridian eyes narrowed in focus as he went through a few katas with practiced ease. His body was fit, with a little definition brought by over two years of interest and unrelenting practice of the martial arts.

Harry James Potter was an intensely private individual that made a lasting impression on you once you met him, and it was his eighth birthday today. He did not consider this day any different from the others of the year, and went about his business as usual. Ever since he was a toddler and had begun to comprehend the happenings of the world around him, he had realised that he was for all intents and uses, alone in the world. He was an orphan and his _family_, comprised of his uncle, aunt and cousin, were family in the marginal sense, despite them staying under the same roof for all of seven years. They did not know him, and he was not that close to them. As the old adage goes, _Live and Let Live_. Harry was also a very intelligent and hard working person, and thanked his mother and father for passing on a modicum of intelligence to him through genes. This made him very different from his family, and he was glad for it. He was definitely nothing like those two hippopotamuses he had to call his uncle and cousin, not that he would say it to their faces. He liked his peaceful life, thank you very much.

This inherited intelligence had placed him firmly in the top tier amongst his peers. He was academically head above shoulders in his age group, and this was noticed early on by his teachers. Hence he was allowed to skip grades and by virtue of a scholarship, admitted in a different school instead of following his cousin when he was six and a half. The encouragement and advice from teachers had allowed his mental faculties to flourish, sharpening his already high IQ. He also had seen the way his uncle had gone to seed, and with his cousin well on his way, he had decided that he definitely did not want that kind of flab on his body. Hence he gone asking around and on his sixth birthday, his aunt Petunia had gotten him admitted at the local dojo and brought him books on self defense, one of the few kinds of kindness from her that made him marginally closer to his aunt than his uncle and cousin. Since then, he had regularly come down to the facility and taken lessons on self defense and life in general from the old, venerable sensei that ran the dojo.

* * *

Finishing his katas, Harry went to the locker room and the showers and cleansed off the sweat and grit on his body. Drying himself, he changed into a t-shirt and shorts that just fit him, bought by his aunt for him at the sale in the local mart. Bidding good bye to his sensei, he took to the roads in a brisk walk, hoping to get home before the day turned too muggy, as they were oft to do so in the English summers. Fifteen minutes later, he reached number four. Opening the door, he caught sight of his aunt lounging under the air conditioner in the living room, his walrus and pig of an uncle and cousin respectively, nowhere to be found. Nodding curtly at her, and receiving a tilt of the face in return, he went up to his room.

His room was the smallest in the house, but he had learned early in his life not to argue and to be thankful for what was there. He set his shirt on the chair and his glasses on the small work desk, which was supplemented by a book case, filled with books. Spanning across a wide range of topics ranging from _Physics_ to _Astronomy_, from _Calming your mind_ to _Gardening_, Harry's first love was the pursuit of knowledge, (A.N. _similar to a doe eyed bookworm he'll meeting later_) and he left no stones unturned. Most of these books were second hand, but that did not lessen their intrinsic value at all. For as long as he had been able to read and comprehend, he had grasped basic concepts from all kinds of subjects at preternatural speed, aided by his sharp mind.

Harry had been laying on his bed, a bit tired from the rigorous exercise in the morning, when there was a knock on his door and his aunt poked her head in. He was somewhat perplexed, as his aunt rarely came into his room, much more willing to call him down for anything she needed. She carried in her arms a somewhat moderately sized brown box, which by its looks, had been sitting in the attic for ages. "It's your eighth birthday today, isn't it," she asked. Harry nodded with a neutral expression on his face. "Vernon and Dudley are out, so I thought I might as well get this done and dusted" she continued, an exasperated look on her face. She set down the box and took out an envelope from a pocket of her ever present cleaning apron, setting it on his desk. "I was advised to give you this on your eighth birthday." "By whom?", interrupted Harry. Masking her annoyance at the task and his interruption, she continued as though he had not spoken, "Read the letter and you'll understand everything. In the box are your birth certificates and hospital documents, which were brought in with you from your parent's house. There are other things in there which I have no interest in. You are free to do whatever you want with it." With this she left the room, while Harry sat there, still reeling from the dialogue.

- End -

A.N : This is a humble attempt of mine to remake the Harry Potter Universe as per my ideas. Please read and review. Reviews will be appreciated, flames and flamers will be ignored. Thank you.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:I Do not own Harry Potter or its associated franchises. All characters are property of J.K.R and Warner Bros and other concerned agencies.

A.N. There will be regular interruptions in the chapter while I attempt to capture Harry's reactions to the contents. Apologies to my dear readers.

* * *

Chapter 2 – Birthday Letters and Packages

Harry sat there, barely controlling his emotions at being presented with something which linked him with his parents. He slowly reached out for the envelope with somewhat unsteady hands, noting that it was not made of paper. It was made with a thick material somewhat similar to vellum, and it had yellowed with age. It was addressed simply _'To Harry' _in a flowing looping script, written in a velvety golden – crimson ink. Gingerly he slit the envelope and took out a page of the material as the envelope. _Parchment_, his sharp mind deduced. He took a deep breath and began reading the letter written in the same elegant manner as on the address, immediately disappointed that the envelope was written by somebody named Albus Dumbledore. This person was definitely not one of his parents, he knew his surname was _Potter_! Nevertheless, he continued reading. The letter went something like this:

_Dear Harry,_

_A very happy birthday to you._

_ My name is Albus Dumbledore and I am currently watching you sleep in a crib in my office while I write this letter. Which shall be short and brief, while I attempt to explain the events of the immediate past. It has been at most a few scant hours since a momentous event occurred, which concerns you and our community. _

Harry tried to remember anything of significance which had happened during his infant years. As far as he could remember, he had been there at the Dursleys for seven years. Not recalling anything of note, he returned his attention to the letter in his hands.

_You won't find anything of note in muggle (_'Muggle, what's that?' thought Harry_) history Harry, since what I am speaking about happened in the magical world._

Eyes wide, he reread the line. He was now much more than intrigued than he was a scant two minutes ago.

_Yes Harry, I did say magical. I do not want you arriving unarmed and ignorant of our world when you do so, which is also why I am writing this letter. By the way, muggles are non-magical people. Do not even attempt to disregard this letter and my words as a joke, for magic is fundamentally ingrained in you, as it has been passed down by your mother and father to you._

Harry immediately sat up straight at the mention of his parents.

_Yes Harry, your mum and dad were a witch and a wizard, and powerful ones too. You have clearly inherited the strong magics, I guess the potter bloodline breeds true. Even now, you are wandlessly summoning knick-knacks out of curiosity from various areas around my office. I had to ward my lemon sherbets in order to prevent you from devouring them whole._

Smirking, Harry read on.

_I am honoured to have known Lily and James Potter as close friends and confidantes. If you are still questioning the existence of magic, Harry, I ask you to cast about your mind and think of some incidents or events which you may have thought of as strange, where strange things happened, especially if you lost emotional control over yourself, which had no conclusive explanation. _

It was true though, Harry thought, as he cast his mind back over the few scattered incidents over the last years and vibrant emerald eyes sharpened in recollection behind rimless glasses. He did not lose control in the worst of situations, if he did though he was overcome by a strange rush of something (_power?_), which had led to unexplainable events. He had been puzzled by these goings-on, but he usually tried to find some plausible explanation for them. Never did he think about them as something being caused by _magic_. Such as the one, when he was seven and half, it was the first time he had encountered bullies. He had lost the tenuous control he had over his emotions, and a particularly large boy had been flung away from him, accompanied by a surge of the same feeling or _force_ through Harry's body, even though he had not touched the boy.

At other times, he had somehow caused books he wanted to fall from the tallest shelves in the local library directly and smoothly into his arms. He had been baffled and a little scared at that time. He also remembered seeing particularly strange characters on the streets, bowing at him and disappearing the next instant he looked for them. Chief among these was an old man wearing archaic cloaks, always garish in colour in the most extreme sense. He had seen him at regular intervals, the man always twinkling at him, disappearing the next moment. Inexplicably on occasions, a _tabby_ _cat_ among all things had taken to following him as he had jogged through the streets of Little Whinging. He knew it was the same cat, as evident by the markings around its eyes. He did not mind, as somehow it left him feeling secure and loved.

It looked as though he had found the reason for all these isolated and particularly vexing moments in his life. He continued reading the letter. Almost as if it was premeditated, it said:

_That Harry, was magic. _

_The momentous occasion I was speaking about earlier has been a tragedy for you, me and for many of my friends and acquaintances. Harry, you do understand that the inherent nature of living beings does not vary, be it separated by countries, races, continents, even species or by secrets, such as magic. If I may be so bland, there are a few rotten eggs in every basket. _(Harry nodded subconsciously, thinking of his uncle and cousin) _The person I am referring to here is a particularly vile and loathsome piece of work. He, Harry is (was?) the most dark and evil wizard in the last hundred years of our history. His name, is Lord Voldemort. _(Strange name, thought Harry)

_For a reason too sensitive to write in this letter, he went after your parents shortly after your first birthday. On the Halloween of 1981, Voldemort came and murdered your parents. Your parents had been in hiding for a few months before this happened. That is the reason Harry, why you are an orphan today. And as a reminder of that night, you were left with a scar upon your forehead. _

Not for the first time, Harry ran a finger over the scar that now, he understood the significance of.

_Voldemort was presumed destroyed, while you came away with that scar. Keep in mind, you will find that carrying that scar may lead to unwanted attention once you enter our world. Further, it is my prerogative that Voldemort while gone, is not dead. _

Emerald eyes widened and then sharpened with anger at the murderer of his parents still living, the keen mind behind them immediately picking out the conclusions behind this information.

_Yes Harry, he will return for sure in the near future and he will come after you. So, you will need to prepare._

_Till you can do so, I am going to leave you at your aunt's house, for the blood you share with her shall provide you with the greatest protection I can bestow upon you. The magics, fortified by the power of your mother's sacrifice shall protect you and the people you live with. Harry, I must implore upon you that though Voldemort was temporarily vanquished, his followers and like-minded people will still seek to harm you. The protection invoked and ensconced upon you is for that purpose only. No one with intention to harm you shall be allowed to enter past the protective magic. I beg forgiveness from you for leaving you in that house, which while you still call it home, shall protect you. _

Harry understood, he now had answers as to why he was left here with his relatives. While his relatives had never been abusive, they did not behave like family, as if Harry was somewhat of a burden on them. Only his aunt had shown a measure of tolerance towards him for which now, Harry was feeling a little less bitter towards her & understanding her a little better.

_For now Harry, if I may, let me turn your attentions to other, more pleasant things. On your eleventh birthday, you'll receive a letter from Hogwarts. That, Harry is the premier school of Magic in the British Isles, and of that school, I am the Headmaster. And it is to this school you shall continue your pursuit of knowledge. This is where the bulk of the above mentioned preparation that you'll be doing shall take place. More when you arrive here. _

_Along with this letter is a package that your aunt was instructed to give you on your eighth birthday, which is when you'll be reading this. It contains something your parents arranged for you to receive when you were eight, in the worst case scenario, the contents of which I am not privy to. This letter of mine was a precursor what will follow once you open the package._

_I hope we shall see each other when you attend Hogwarts Harry, I am looking forward to it. _

_I remain in service,_

_Yours Faithfully_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts_

Finishing the very revealing letter, Harry's shoulders sagged from information overload. Looking at the box though, his spirits lifted and his eagerness increased. For all his maturity, he was an eight year old child receiving something from his parents, for the first time. Harry put the letter down and fighting through the gamut of emotions coursing through him, reached for the box which had accompanied the earlier. Trying to open it, he found that he could not find the flaps to do so, it was completely solid. Looking more closely, he found a sign stating '_Put Your Palm Here' _on the side of the box. He did so, and at once felt a rush of the same energy, as if it was flowing out of his hands into the aged cardboard of the box. _Magic_, he realised with dawning comprehension.

Almost as if a switch was flipped, formerly invisible shapes crafted on the box glowed a dull blue and then dimmed down. _Must have been some sort of magical scanner keyed into me, _deduced Harry, as he reached for the previously absent flaps on the periphery of the box and pried them open. There were a few items in there, consisting of an envelope of the same yellowish parchment, a few books, a pouch, a golden key, and a few bundles of cash, which he resolved to hide at the earliest opportunity.

Curious, Harry reached for the books, and found titles on them, such as '_Occlumency – All You Need to Know', 'Magical History Unbiased', _and a title that singularly commanded his attention_ 'The History of the Potter Clan'. _Resolving to read it at the earliest he picked up and weighed the pouch; it was unexpectedly heavy and jingled once he shook it. Looking inside, his eyes widened. It contained a handful of gold, silver and bronze coins. Setting it aside, he reached for the envelope which slipped from his fingers in nervousness. _Butterfingers, _Harry berated himself.

Calming himself, he opened it to find a sheaf of parchment and a thick sheet of paper. He took out the paper and was pleasantly surprised to find a photograph of his parents. It was _moving._ His mother was a beautiful woman, he noted, with beautiful dark auburn hair and same green eyes as him, while the bulk of his features had clearly been inherited from his father. He had the same chin, the same nose, the same mouth, similar untidy jet black hair, hazel eyes and wore spectacles, just as Harry did. The both looked young and vibrant, and were enjoying each other's company. Clutching the photograph close to his chest, he fought to keep control of his emotions. _There will be plenty of time for that later, let's get back to business. _Taking a steadying breath,he started to read his parents' letter to him.

* * *

_To Harry, our wonderful (at this point baby) son. _

_ While writing this letter to you, it is our sincerest hope that this letter and the box it is in is never needed by you, that is we are there in your life, helping and guiding you instead of addressing you for perhaps the first, and the last time through this sheet of parchment. If you are reading this now, our greatest fear has come to pass. All we can do is pray that wherever you are, you are in good health. Please make no mistake Harry, we have loved you since we knew you were about to come into this world. Even though we are in hiding, the past few months since you came into our lives have been the happiest for us._

_ Our purpose of writing this letter to you is twofold. Firstly we do not wish for you to remain ignorant about your past, about your family and origins. Secondly we want to educate you in sparse terms as to what your role, actions and duties in the coming years will be, for the portents that have been revealing themselves have not been encouraging. We realised that one of the worst Dark Lord in years, Voldemort has been targeting families that refuse to bend to his whim, and that the Potter family would be in the list. Your paternal grandparents died in a skirmish with the Dark Lord, after which we received particularly distressing news, which hastened our efforts to keep our family safe and secure. Hence, we have been hiding in fear of both your safety and our own. _

_ Harry, your first foray into the magical world shall not be pleasant. There shall be many elements which will disappoint and disgust you. Discrimination in magical society runs rampant son, and it is exactly this what has led to the rise of villains such as Voldemort. The Victorian-ish society is divided into purebloods, half bloods and first generation witches and wizards. _

_Purebloods control most of the economy and belong to the Old Houses. Half-bloods are people who have magic in either parent, that is, either their mother is a witch or the father a wizard. They stay on the fringes. Then there are first generation witches or wizards, being the first recorded magicians in their families. New blood is distastefully called _mudblood, _or dirty blood. The word is an extremely offensive term. They are thought to be weak in magic, which is extremely inaccurate, given that your mother is a first generation witch and a certified powerful charms mistress. The hostile attitude towards fresh blood is what enabled and fuelled Voldemort's rise to anarchy. The traditional pure blooded houses rallied around him while oppressing half-bloods and first generation witches and wizards, which led to war. _

_The Potter family though counted among the most prestigious names in the magical world is known as blood traitors, because for centuries we Potters have married for love, bringing in and infusing fresh new blood without care for blood status. We encourage you, our son to do the same. Because of this, the Potter Bloodline has held strong for centuries while other houses have petered out and ceased to exist. Hence, Voldemort has set his sights on families such as us and almost hunted us to extinction._

_You also must have noticed a few books in the box. These have been deemed necessary reading material by us. Plucking thoughts out of one's head is very easy, as you'll learn. That's what Occlumency is for. We do want you to know all about where you come from, hence we have included a book on the history of our family. You need to learn about the world you'll be entering into. Magical History addresses that. _

_Knowing all this Harry, you'll have to do some things when you go to Diagon Alley (the magical shopping district) for the first time, after you receive the letter from Hogwarts. Firstly go to Diagon Alley using the Knight Bus. Just shove your right hand out on the street and the bus shall appear. Normally you would need a wand, but since you are a minor, the bus is guided by your magical signature. Tell him to go to the Leaky Cauldron and pay him from the pouch provided in the box (the gold ones are Galleons, the silver ones Sickles and the bronze ones Knuts). _

_From there you can move on to Diagon. Before you can shop for your school list, go to Gringotts Bank. It is run by goblins, and you'll need to be real respectful to them. Since House Potter has always enjoyed cordial relationships with them, it shouldn't be a problem. The golden key in the box is for your trust vault, for school and personal expenses. Also you'll need to fulfil a few commitments required by the heir of house Potter._

_If you need help with anything, ask our family account manager and he'll be happy to help you. Call in a few Potter house elves (you'll see later), they'll be very happy to see you._

_That's all we could think about adding to this letter. We realise it is a poor substitute for us, but it'll have to do. Do not mourn us, Harry for we died protecting what is closest to our hearts. Best of luck, stay safe, happy and be a good man._

_Mum and Dad,_

_Lily and James Potter._

Harry sat there, tears dripping from his eyes as he finished the letter from his parents. It felt like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Getting proof of his parents' love had cleansed away all doubts in him. He had mentally wrestled with uncertainty about his parents for too long. The letter had in equal parts comforted and angered him beyond belief. Comfort at his parents' words and guidance, and anger at Voldemort for taking away all that was dear from him. From now on though, he would focus on making his parents proud and eradicating Voldemort's taint once and for all. Harry put the letter down, one thought running through his mind,

_The next time we meet, it shall be as foes, and as equals._

_It's a promise._

* * *

A.N : Thank you for reading and please leave behind a review. They're like ambrosia to me. Cheers!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: Do not own Harry Potter or its associated franchises. All characters are property of J.K.R and Warner Bros and other concerned agencies.

A.N. This chapter will set up the story and you'll understand the kind of Harry I have in store.

* * *

Chapter 3 – Recollections and Developments

The first rays of sunrise fell upon Privet Drive as the sky changed shades from a deep navy to an azure blue interspersed with shades of orange and red. In the smallest bedroom of Number Four, emerald eyes snapped awake. Harry blinked as he tried to get a hold on his bearings. He had been up late last night, studying Occlumency.

Looking at the clock, he saw it was a quarter past five. He then looked at the calendar, it was 25th July. He was counting down the days to his birthday, and his Hogwarts letter was due to arrive any day. His eyes shifted to the photograph of his parents which had been framed and was currently residing on his bedside table.

His lips lifted up a bit at the corners, breaking into a hint of a smile as he contemplated over what had happened over the three years since he had received the letters from his parents and Dumbledore. His life had changed since the events of that day, and for the better.

Before, he had been Harry Potter, schoolboy extraordinaire. Now he was Harry James Potter, wizard-in-training. The letters from his parents and Dumbledore had galvanized him, making him understand just what was at stake here. He had gained a sense of purpose and a burning need to meet the expectations many people were sure to have regarding him. His drive to exceed had gotten an impetus due to the realization of what was waiting for him out there.

He had read all the books that his parents had included in the package, and had been given many an unpleasant surprise. It had disgusted him to see the unreasonable amount of vilification some people were forced to endure in wizarding society. Magical society was wounded due to the pureblood regime, and the wound had been festering for years. No doubt a few offspring of the traditionalists would be looking to curry in his favour. (_A.N.: I smell a ferret here, do you?)_ He would not give them the chance. The Victorian way of thinking grated on his nerves. Tradition was fine, but it could quickly magnify into extremism, and it ran rampant. Tolerance for others was absent. Change was discouraged.

He was determined to do whatever little he could to change that.

It astounded him as to amount of ignorance wizarding society was willing to expend in return for bliss. They were like sheep. The purebloods still looked down upon non magicals (_he did NOT like the term muggle)_, not knowing that their world could be wiped out with a press of a button. Magical society was still rotting in the Middle Ages, not knowing that the world on this side of the fence had transcended them by leaps and bounds.

Of all the matters his parents had touched upon in the letter, Occlumency had given him the hardest time. It was incomprehensible that a virtual stranger could pluck thoughts from your mind, access your deepest secrets and _violate _you mentally without the victim ever noticing it. It was troubling. After reading the book on Occlumency over three times, he knew what to do, how to do it, but as saying goes, putting it into practice was hardest part. Occlumency required complete mastery over your mind and emotions. Even Harry, who had a well-organized mind and a sharp brain -well above and over his peers- had found that he some ways to go. For somebody used to understanding concepts and implementing them in a jiffy, this was a bitter pill to digest. Nevertheless, he had persevered.

He had been forced to face his earliest memories, memories which had long been buried. Before he had wised up and decided to help himself, he also had been a scared little boy. Without parents, and with relatives who had shown him no affection and had been tolerant at best, he had been confused as to why he had no one to love him. He had seen parents collecting his classmates after classes at primary school. He had no one to do so. He had dared not ask his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia why. He had also been jealous of Dudley and the attention and love he received, and it had taken him months to overcome it. He had not thought about his childhood after the phase had passed, in fact he had chosen not do so.

Occlumency training required him to face his darkest memories and with great reluctance, he had done so. In testament to his mental strength, he had finally reconciled with his childhood. The kind of mental peace this had brought him had convinced him as to the usefulness of Occlumency. Eager to see more of the benefits, he had put more of his time and effort into Occlumency. He did not know how protected his mind was, but he would soon find out.

The positive side of the coin was that he got to read up on his family. He had known his surname was Potter, but he did not understand its significance. Now, it filled him with a sense of pride and belonging. At the same time, knowing that you were the legacy to hundreds upon hundreds of years' worth of history humbled you. He would do whatever he could to live up to it.

Also, add the effect of the exercises on meditation listed in the Occlumency book had on his already brilliant mind, he had an almost eidetic memory now. Occlumency had enabled him to organise his thoughts to perfection, clearing up the minimal amount of what was equivalent to mental clutter in his mind. He could bring up facts and figures from varying subjects at the drop of a hat, which continued to astound his teachers at his school. The ability to reach deep into you, into your soul, into your mind had polished his mental faculties to a shine.

This also had an effect on his magic. This he considered the greatest pro resulting out of what had transpired three years ago, a pro to balance out all the cons. He had somewhat been aware of his magic before, but he could vividly feel it, sense it inside him these days. As an experiment, he had purposefully attempted to do what he had done unknowingly before, _accidental magic_ as it was called, with amazing results. He was aware of his magic _dancing, roiling _and_ flowing_ under his fingertips, unexpectedly eager to please. He treated magic as a friend and a companion. While casting magic, he followed two simple rules. One, he did not force magic to do his bidding, he merely guided it, provided it with a conduit. Secondly, he did this with visualisation, with want, with focus and at times with gestures. You simply had to show magic the way, and it would follow.

During his earlier days of experimentation, he would either expend a lot of magic or call upon a less than required amount to do a task, such as call his glasses into his hands. They would either shoot into his hands with unnecessary force, or would twitch where they lay. This had irked him. He knew he had a problem with control, to his consternation. In all the books he had read, control was emphasized on, it took precedence to power. It applied to him more than ever, due to his as yet underdeveloped magical core. He then visualised his magic with a sluice gate, with the regulation in his hands. This had worked like a charm. He could easily keep his magic tightly bound, concealed inside him ready to be unleashed without any forewarning.

This exposure to magic had caused his senses to become fine-tuned to magical fluctuations. He could sense magical people around him. He could identify the feel of ambient magic. It was kind of like a second vision for him, apart from normal eyesight. As time had passed, his abilities had grown. Due to this, he was always aware of the presence of the blood wards which sheltered him and his relatives. The wards radiated a feeling of protectiveness and a hint of danger, which was most likely directed towards trespassers. They would shimmer like the air on a humid summer's day.

Over the course of time, he had refined his abilities to the point where he could consciously levitate, attract, banish, control everyday objects with a bit of focus. With concentration, he could heal small scrapes and wounds on his body. He could even repair things which had been broken recently. He chuckled at the thought of stealing Dumbledore's sherbet lemons from under his nose, _again_.

Another thing which he had deduced from his readings was the aversion of the wizarding world to any kind of physical exertion. Except for quidditch, everything was done with a wand or other methods, none of which involved exercise. Fitness was virtually a non-existent concept in the magical world. In a world where broken bones could be healed in an instant, broken teeth regrown within seconds, muscle tears mended with a wave of a stick and fever calmed down with a liquid, there was no need of any kind of physical toil.

Harry did not agree. He had been exercising and practicing martial arts from a young age, and was very familiar with the notion of stamina. The way he saw it, the more stamina you had, the more magic you could cast and for a longer duration. Hence, his magic had grown more active, stronger over the years. His daily workout routine had facilitated his physical strength to supplement and match his magic and his mental fortitude.

Suffice to say, Harry was more than prepared for Hogwarts and the journey ahead of him.

* * *

Harry jerked as his aunt's voice sounded up the stairs, breaking him from his reverie. He quickly went through his ablutions and dressed up in a crisp shirt and pants before going down for breakfast. The bundle of cash from his parents had helped him a lot. Harry spent his money judiciously, knowing the ills of wastage from his earlier days. He had gotten a few crisp shirts and pants to look presentable. Bulk of the money went as usual, towards buying books. He reached the bottom of the stairs, moving towards the dining table.

His aunt was there, fixing dishes for breakfast. She looked up when he entered and gave him a small smile. This was another very welcome development. Dumbledore's letter detailing why he was placed with his aunt had allowed him to see his relation with his aunt from another perspective. Her sister dead because of the thing she hated most (magic), and he, a living reminder of that loss, unwillingly forced upon her. No wonder she had gotten bitter. He had apologised to her for all that had happened. She had shed a few tears, but apologised to him in return. Their relationship had improved since that. The awkwardness, the elephant in the room had all but vanished.

His uncle and cousin still remained the same, stubborn and silly, though did not try to aggravate him. He supposed him displaying fewer acts of spontaneous magic had helped things along. That and they did not want to aggravate Aunt Petunia. For all his bluster, Vernon still loved his wife. And Dudley for all his spoilt attitude, was afraid of his mother.

He sat down at the chair, eating his eggs and bacon with gusto. He was even served regular portions of food now. Before he had to make his own food, but now those occasions were rare. Dudley had complained at first, but had quickly settled for an even larger portion, _the greedy pig_. His aunt sat across him, watching him eat.

"Dudley and Uncle Vernon?" asked Harry. Fixing up her plate, his aunt replied, "Still sleeping in. Let them though. It'll prevent a lot of problems later."

Harry smirked, knowing exactly what she was talking about. Though his aunt Petunia had been a lot more relaxed when it came to magic, Vernon and Dudley were still prone to be jumpy when the m-word came into any conversation. Vernon in particular was intolerant to magic. He only put up with Harry for the sake of his wife. Harry understood that, and kept his distance from both of them. Aunt Petunia was grateful for it.

"Your letter is due any day, right?" she asked. "Yes, it is. I suppose you want them asleep when it comes?" he replied. His aunt looked at him with a deadpan expression, not bothering to dignify that with a reply.

Harry stifled a chuckle.

As they were finishing up breakfast, a fairly large grey feathered owl flew in through the open window. His aunt started in surprise, before calming herself. The owl looked at Harry with intelligent fierce eyes, before lifting its leg. A letter was tied there with string.

"Go on, take it." Petunia spoke. Harry nodded, untying the string and relieving the owl of its load. It hooted at him and alighted on the window sill, fixing its unblinking stare on him. _I suppose it's waiting for a reply, _Harry thought.

Picking up his Hogwarts letter, he let the feeling of acceptance wash over him. The envelope was made of thick, fresh parchment.

_To,_

_Mr Harry James Potter_

_The Dining Table_

_Number Four, Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging _

_Surrey_

Harry blinked at the exact form of address, turning the envelope over. It was sealed with a coat of arms consisting of a lion, a badger, an eagle and a snake all surrounding the letter H. He broke the seal before taking the letter out.

* * *

**(A.N.: Taken from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone)**

* * *

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL __of__ WITCHCRAFT __and__ WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr Potter, _

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. _

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Minerva McGonagall _

_Deputy Headmistress _

Harry nodded, the letter was pretty much on expected lines. He took out the second piece of parchment and went through it. It detailed all the things he needed for his first year at Hogwarts. First though, he needed to reply. Taking a piece of paper he wrote,

_To _

_Minerva McGonagall _

_Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts_

_ Ma'am, I have received the communications and shall be happy to attend Hogwarts come September._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Harry Potter _

He coaxed the creature onto his arm, wincing as its claws dug into his flesh. He secured his reply to the owl's leg and watched as it flew on its return journey. Post owls were as intelligent as he had read, it seemed_. I'll have to see about getting one myself, _mused Harry_._

He turned to see his aunt washing up in the kitchen. Looking worried, she asked "I suppose you'll want to get your school things?" Harry could sense what was bothering her, "Yes, but you needn't concern yourself. There are alternate modes of transport in the wizarding world, which I'll be using." His aunt nodded and sat back, relieved.

"In fact, I'll be going this afternoon."

* * *

**_Later that afternoon…_**

Harry looked at the empty stretch of road on front him. It had gotten more humid as the day progressed and as such, the residents of the locality had stayed indoors. He was wearing a hat to shield himself from the afternoon sun. Feeling a little foolish, he raised his right arm to call the Knight Bus.

Nothing happened.

Harry frowned at first, but then remembering that the bus tracked magical signatures, pulsed a bit of his tightly controlled magic. He could _see_ the waves of magic radiating outward from his position in all directions forming a hemisphere, pinging of trees and other objects. Suddenly he felt a magical disturbance at the edge of his senses, approaching rapidly. He jumped to side in alarm, alert.

BANG!

Not a moment later, there stood a double decker bus right where he had been standing. Harry thanked himself for his presence of mind, the infernal bus had almost mowed him down! Focusing his attention on the bus, it almost stood out like a beacon to his enhanced senses. The bus was garishly painted a vivid purple and was an eyesore.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, I'm Stan Shunpike and I'll be your conductor for this afternoon" a youth at the door was saying. Harry stepped into the bus, mentally cringing at the chairs haphazardly scattered here and there.

_It was true_, _there was no logic in the magical world_. _And I'm setting foot into this madhouse_, he cried in his head.

"Where to, sir?"

"The Leaky Cauldron" replied Harry.

"That will be eleven sickles, sir."

Harry handed over the silver, resigning himself to a rough journey, and rightly so.

BANG!

He almost fell of his chair as the bus changed locations. The majority of chairs had slid backward towards the end of the bus due to the sudden acceleration. Harry absently wondered about the amount of G's the passengers were facing. Shaking of the random thought, he paid attention to his fellow passengers. Almost as if answering his question, the passengers getting down at their stops seemed really glad to get off. They also had a green tinge to their faces and looked unsteady on their feet.

He looked outside, blinked, and then looked again. They were in a completely different location. The bus seemed to jump from area to area, with the driver of the bus looking the least bit bothered of hitting oncoming objects. _Magic really made you forget common sense, _thought Harry, but he had to admit, it was exhilarating at the same time_._ He wondered how the bus worked. _Was there even an engine? How was the steering wheel connected to the bus changing locations? Did the people on the road even notice it?_ It looked as though they didn't. They didn't as much as flinch as the bus missed them by a hair's width. The bus must have had some sort of notice-me-not charms plastered over every inch.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by the conductor's voice.

"Leaky Cauldron next."

-End-

* * *

Author's Notes: 

_Thank you for the reviews. As one reviewer pointed out, my dialogue was not 'in' with the flow, that is, it caused discomfort to the reader due to its placement. I hope I have fixed it to be much more legible. Thanks for the advice and feedback. Unexpected and welcome at the same time. These kind of responses mean a lot a newbie like me._

_Also, please be advised that I will not post until I feel that my chapter is up to the mark in terms of narration, grammar, spelling, flow, length and all round goodness. According to me, my first two chapters were not good enough, as I posted in haste. I may format them later, without any bearing on the story. For now I am focussed on developing and composing new chapters, basically building up a repository of them. I do not want my readers reading substandard material. Hence my update schedule shall be sporadic, but not unnecessarily delayed. _

_Sincerely, Lust of Alucard._

A.N.: Thank you for reading and please leave behind some feedback. All queries are welcome. Reviews are like fertilizer to my muse. Cheers!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Do not own Harry Potter or its associated franchises. All characters are property of J.K.R and Warner Bros and other concerned agencies.

* * *

Chapter 4 - The Celebrity, The Heir, The Student

Harry stepped away from the Knight Bus, feeling as though his head was no longer firmly attached to his head. Breathing deeply, he took a minute to regain his bearings. He had no wish to experience such a thing again, but knew he would need to avail its services again. With a loud bang, the bus was on its way, relocating itself to its next stop. He glanced ahead, looking at the Leaky Cauldron. He sensed it before he saw it.

The building was wreathed in a thick cocoon of magic. It had to be, because according to his books, the Leaky Cauldron had been serving as the gateway to the world of magic in the middle of London for the greater part of half a century. The passers-by didn't even notice it because, except for a few exceptions, the enchantments on it had it completely removed from the notice of the non magicals.

This was to be his first contact with the magical denizens of Britain. Feeling a little trepidation, Harry entered it. Almost immediately his nose was assaulted by the smell of rich whiskey. The room he was in looked like a bar, although he knew that it had rooms for customers to stay in too. A few people of all kinds and demeanours sat scattered at the tables here and there.

As Harry entered, most of the heads had turned simultaneously towards him. He quickly made his way to the old barkeep. Said barkeep was watching him with curiosity as he drew nearer. Getting within earshot Harry asked,

"Could you please show me the way to Diagon Alley?" Tom nodded, before catching sight of the scar on his forehead, as Harry subconsciously smoothened down his hair in irritation (_it never did stay flat). _Harry heard the sharp intake of breath as he took in the man staring at him in surprise, eagerness, and was that _worship _in his eyes?

"Are you Harry Potter?" Tom asked in a whisper, which had somehow carried over to the now still crowd in the Cauldron.

Harry nodded in confirmation. He never could have anticipated what came next. Whispers of _Potter, The Boy Who Lived, Saviour _and like spread like a wildfire. Like a wave breaking into the beach in stormy weather, the crowd in the room had swarmed him and closed in from all sides. Harry was surrounded by a horde of people all clamouring for his attention.

"Mr Potter, so good to see you, we have been waiting for you for so many years."

"My good fortune, I happened to come in at the same time as Harry Potter! My wife will never believe me."

"Could I please shake your hand Harry?"

"Welcome back to our world, Mr Potter."

"Thank you so much for getting us rid of You-Know-Who."

He was pressed in, as he struggled to make himself heard above all the adulation. Harry's thoughts were all over the place. He had deduced that due to his name being associated with Voldemort's disappearance, he would maybe receive some adoration, some pats on the back. It seemed that he had underestimated the effect Voldemort had on the magical world, if he was _this _well known. It discomfited him.

Tom, seeing Harry was uncomfortable to say the least, calmed the crowd by making himself heard.

"Quieten down everyone! Can't you see you're making the lad uncomfortable?" Once the crowd had settled down some he turned to Harry and said "I'm sorry Mr Potter, I shouldn't have said that aloud." Calming himself down with a deep breath, Harry waved his apology off with a smile as he turned to the crowd which had swelled it seemed, and were waiting on tenterhooks to hear him speak.

Harry wanted to nip this problem of people placing him on a pedestal at the bud, before it could magnify into something dangerous. He knew all too well the kind of dangers attention brought. Being a public figure meant you were the first target for the masses' love and hate and it could have serious repercussions later. His brain working furiously, he began,

"Thank you for this overwhelming reception. I never thought I would receive such love and adoration when I first entered the magical world for my Hogwarts shopping. My humble thanks once again."

The crowd was nodding in happiness as they drank in his words. Their saviour had after all returned to their midst.

"I'm just a boy of eleven, not even a student yet on a shopping trip for Hogwarts. I thought I was ordinary, but here I find myself a celebrity at the age of eleven."

The people nodded vehemently. The Boy Who Lived was a part of local lore and amongst the most recognisable names in recent magical history. Their thoughts changed drastically when Harry continued to speak.

"All for surviving an attack which took my parents' lives, leaving me an orphan. And here I see people celebrating that."

The gathered crowd looked stricken as they reconsidered their thoughts; their jubilant features began changing into something akin to shame. They reviewed their activities. Heaping praise on an orphaned boy of eleven and reminding him of his parents seemed pretty insensitive and stupid to say the least.

"Besides, you all seem to forget the fact that I was only about a year in age then. What was I supposed to do, blast Voldemort" – cue shuddering and exclamations – "with a pair of soiled nappies? If you want to praise anyone, praise my mother and father. They were the ones Voldemort" – the crowd took a sharp intake of breath – "faced last before he perished. They are the ones who deserve all the tributes you people seem pretty happy to be showering me with."

His piece said, Harry walked off, leaving a stunned crowd in his wake. Tom followed him. Catching up to Harry, he began leading him to the backyard, enclosed by walls. Once there, he paused and turned remorseful eyes on Harry.

"I'm sorry Mr Potter, I apologize for whatever took place there today. We were so overjoyed with the Dark Lord's fall, we didn't pause to think the ramifications that night had on your life. I ask your forgiveness on the behalf of the magical community."

Harry looked at him, seeing the repentance in his eyes. Seeking to assure Tom he said,

"It's all right Tom, we all make mistakes. I was merely surprised and wanted the credit for defeating Voldemort to go where it was due." Ignoring Tom's shiver he continued, "And thank you for rescuing me from the crowd."

Tom seemed relieved and motioned for him to move back. Taking out his wand, he started tapping the bricks on the wall in a particular order. Harry's sharp eyes tracked Tom's wand as he memorized the sequence for further use. Apparently Tom was finished, as he stood back, allowing Harry to see the wall. The wall seemed to shifting, folding in on itself as Harry sensed the magic at work. Bricks ground together, the magic merging them with the adjacent ones as they left a gap in the middle of the wall. When the process was finished, Harry looked out of the gateway which had formed, only just hearing Tom say "Welcome to Diagon Alley, Mr Potter".

* * *

For all the descriptions in his books, Harry was still left speechless. The scene in front of him left him spellbound as he barely sensed the wall melding back into place, hiding Tom from view. Diagon Alley looked like a place removed from reality, its hustle and bustle reminded you of a country fair in the olden days, except that this fair sold wands, broomsticks and potion ingredients. People in robes went about their everyday business, once in a while stopping and greeting others. Shops and stalls lined the main street, and were selling all manner of things, ranging from cauldrons to unicorn horns, from trunks to broomsticks and from robes to books _(Emerald eyes widened_ _in glee at this)._ People called out to him as he walked past them, trying to hawk their wares in hopes of earning a profit.

Harry's focus though, was on a white building in the distance, which rose above all others. _Gringotts, _Harry thought. He had been enthusiastic and apprehensive in equal parts about meeting the guardians of wizarding gold. His texts had detailed the goblin wars and the rebellions by the diminutive race. He had reasoned that while goblins did like to battle, they were also a race with unquestionable honour. In addition, his dad had mentioned that the Potter Clan had enjoyed cordial relations with the goblins. He reassured himself as he ascended the steps to Gringotts.

The goblin guards flanking the burnished doors threw him casual glance as he entered the bank. He nodded in return, noting the slight widening of their eyes. He went up to one of tellers, a surly goblin who was sitting at a counter marked _Wizarding Inheritances._

"Yes?" The goblin drawled in an uninterested and guttural sort of voice without looking up. Harry drew himself up as he replied in a voice completely bereft of nervousness. He would show no weakness, the goblins were said to loathe the very idea.

"I am here to draw some funds out of my trust vault and speak to my family's account manager." The goblin looked up and met Harry's eyes.

"Name?"

"Harry James Potter, of clan Potter"

The goblin stiffened at that, and spoke in a voice that held no traces of his former boredom. "Come along with me."

He hopped down from his previous position and started walking, Harry following suit. After passing through numerous walkways, halls and intersections, the goblin stopped outside a door.

"Step inside" He said motioning Harry to enter.

Harry did so, his eyes trailing across the utilitarian décor of the office until they settled on the battle hardened goblin sitting behind the sole desk. He was clad in thick armour and had a scarred face. A large halberd hung behind him, taking the place of pride on the stone wall. The plaque in front of him said,

_Ironfist, Potter Account Manager. _

Ironfist looked at the young human in front of him, noting the similarities between the youngling and his departed friend Charlus Potter and his son James Potter. Carefully masking his surprise, he spoke "State your business."

"I wish to see my trust vault and go through the Heir ritual" Harry replied, his emerald gaze steady.

"I will need to you to prove your identity. Do you have your trust vault key?" Harry nodded, producing the tiny golden key out of his pockets and handing it to the goblin.

"I see. Wait till I call in for the ingredients for the Heir ritual. Then we can truly ascertain if you are really who you say you are." Ironfist growled out, inwardly impressed by the boy. Not many people could hold his gaze without dropping theirs, and he had plenty of experience with such people, being two hundred and fighting in two wars will that to you. He touched a rune under his desk, and soon two goblins came scurrying in. Ironfist gestured at the desk and they deposited the utensils they carried and left.

Ironfist handed Harry a silver ritual knife, nodding to the parchment on the table. "I will need three drops of your blood on the parchment". Harry nodded, slicing his thumb on the knife without flinching as he let his blood trickle down on to the parchment. He absently noted his thumb healing up quickly as words appeared on the parchment.

_Harry James Potter_

_Son of James Charlus Potter and Lily Marie Potter nee Evans _

_Heir to Clan Potter and Gryffindor_

_Entitled to Potter and Gryffindor Legacy Vaults_

Harry nodded at the writing, smirking. He had been expecting this. The book about his clan detailed _everything _about them, including the fact that about seven centuries ago, a male Potter, namely Jonathan Potter had married the sole female Gryffindor, Elena Gryffindor, at that time. As time passed, the other branches of the Gryffindor family ceased to exist, leaving the Potters to carry forward their name, and their legacy. As such, Harry was not bothered by the writing on the parchment.

Looking at Ironfist, he found the goblin looking thoughtfully studying him. "So Mr Potter, I suspect you had some idea of this?"

Harry nodded, replying. "Call me Harry, I'm too young for 'Mr Potter' yet. As for this"- he gestured at the parchment-"I had a letter and books from my parents detailing my family's history. As you can imagine, it was quite comprehensive. Hence, I have little to be surprised about this." He gestured at the parchment again.

"So what do we do next?"

Ironfist gestured Harry to sit down, for the first time since Harry came in. Taking his seat, he began speaking.

"I have been managing the finances of the Potter family for a hundred years. At first when you came in, it was like looking into the past for me. You resemble your father and grandfather so much. It was almost like I was again speaking with Charlus again."

"You knew my grandfather?" Harry interrupted him.

"Of course I did. Your grandfather and by extension your grandmother were some of my closest friends. The day we lost them was a day of personal tragedy for me. Goblins don't show expression, but that day I resembled nothing like my name." Ironfist spent a moment in retrospect before continuing, "Enough though, let's get down to business."

Harry would have liked to know more, but he knew that there would be many more opportunities later. He listened as Ironfist continued speaking, his tone more controlled and formal now.

"So Harry, I would hazard a guess that you do not know the full extension of your holdings?"

Harry shook his head as he explained his knowledge of the Potter finances. "No sir, I don't. I was told to expect that the Potter family were well off, in a letter from my parents and I inferred that myself from the books about my family. I'm afraid I do not know the exact details."

"Well Harry, before we go down into your vaults, I'd like to explain about the finances and holdings in brief. The Potter clan is one of the wealthiest in Britain, if not the richest. Harry, you come from what is termed as nobility in the magical world. The Potter family is an Ancient and Noble House, that is, those families who can trace back their ancestry to Merlin's time. Your ancestors picked up a few cadet lines on the way, and thus their prestige and wealth grew, with your ancestors adding to it. You are heir to this legacy, and do not need to work for single day in your life if you wish to, though if the history of the male members of your clan holds true, you will not be content to sit back and enjoy your wealth. Am I right?" Ironfist asked with a smirk, which somehow fit on his heavily scarred visage.

Harry nodded, he had never been one to rest back on his laurels. He strove for perfection, well, as close as one could get to it anyway.

"Your holdings from the Potter side include your main money vault, which you are restricted from accessing until you have assumed headship of your house, the legacy vault, which is full of heirlooms, you shall find your Clan Heir ring there, and your trust vault, which is topped up yearly from the main family vault and to which you have unlimited access. Your investments come up to a substantial amount, though they have suffered a bit. I shall be making arrangements so we can start making profits at the earliest. You also have the Potter Hall, your family's ancestral seat, the cottage in Godric's Hollow, which was destroyed, and a few other properties scattered at locations around the world. Leaving aside Potter manor and the cottage, you have restricted access to these until you have turned fourteen. Then you have the Gryffindor vaults. They do not hold much in terms of monetary value, but the books, artifacts and heirlooms in there are priceless. Altogether, your liquid assets are estimated at approximately seven hundred million galleons, still increasing due to returns on your investments. Going by the current exchange rates of around five pounds to the galleon, you have partial control over almost three and half billion pounds sterling."

Harry sat rooted to his seat, gaping at the incomprehensible amount of money his family had. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined this. He was rich, scratch that, he was _filthy stinking rich_. He looked up, Ironfist was smirking at his flabbergasted face. Sputtering, he attempted to speak,

"Thr…three _billion _pounds? How is that even _possible_?"

"It's very possible Harry. Your family, even your father, were all very well versed in finances and did not make much of a fuss regarding their wealth. Their spouses only added to that collective intelligence. Unlike others, they made exceedingly profitable investments both in the magical and non-magical world, and as you can see it has led us to this. Additionally, the Potter manager has always been from my clan within the goblins and we all strive for profit, within reason. Given the factors, it is not surprising that you have this much wealth to fall back upon. Even the ministry doesn't know of the full extent of your wealth. Rest assured, you'll never want for money in your life."

Harry attempted to regain his wits as he dealt with this information blow. He had been at heart a frugal person. Now he was sitting on a huge pile of money which he could not spend in several lifetimes. He then realized that this money would help a lot in emergencies, like _war. _He almost smiled as he understood that he had gained an extremely powerful weapon against Voldemort. Money always did grease the wheels.

Ironfist got up from his chair, gesturing for Harry to follow him. "We shall be heading down to your vaults. Do you want to visit the Gryffindor vaults?"

Harry shook his head. "No, as of now, I don't have enough time for that, besides I can always come back later."

The goblin nodded in agreement as they continued walking. They were following a different route than he had taken to Ironfist's office. A few minutes later, they came to rails set along the floor, with carts running along them and out of sight, each manned by a goblin. Harry looked further and could see the rails splitting at a further point, running off in several directions. Ironfist approached a goblin, who immediately bowed.

"Potter Trust Vault, number six hundred and eighty seven." The attendant nodded and touched a rune at the side of the cart and it set off, carrying the three passengers.

The journey was akin to a roller coaster, only this coaster took you through great caverns and tunnels underground dotted with stalactites and stalagmites. After a harrowing few minutes, they arrived at Harry's trust vault. Ironfist asked for his key, which Harry handed to him. After opening the door, he motioned harry to get inside as he held out a money pouch.

"Fill it up with as much as you think is necessary. It's theft-proof. About five hundred galleons should be enough to tide you over for the year."

"What's the balance?" Harry asked as he took hold of the pouch.

"There's about fifty thousand galleons in there along with a small amount of sickles and knuts. That's seventeen silver sickles to the galleon and twenty nine bronze knuts to the sickle, in case you're wondering."

Harry nodded his thanks as he entered the vault. He stood still for a moment, looking around at the piles of gold strewn around, dotted with some silver and bronze. To hear that you had money, and to see a small fraction of it as proof, were two entirely different things. He mentally shook himself as he set about gathering gold coins into the pouch. Shrugging, he also took some sickles and knuts with him. Satisfied that that he had enough, he exited the vault. Ironfist closed the vault as they went back to the cart where the cart goblin was waiting.

"Potter Legacy Vault, number two hundred and ninety five."

Off they went again, going deeper into the bowels of the earth. They were in a much more secure place than in the upper levels of this subterranean complex. It had to be, reasoned Harry. This was obviously where old families had their treasure locked up. They had stopped before a vault that looked nothing like his trust vault. This door for one, had no keyhole. It was also embossed with a crest that Harry had seen once before, in his book about the Potter Clan. It was literally radiating magic. Two phoenixes, each with beautiful red and gold plumage were rising and twisting around a black and gold Griffin, which proudly held its head high. Two staves crossed the other in the back ground, with a motto transcribed over the whole picture.

_Familia Primum__, __Post__Mundi_

_Family First, The World Later_, translated Harry mentally as he stepped up close to the crest inscribed on the huge door. _You certainly followed our motto till the last didn't you, mum and dad? _He sighed in sadness, composing himself as Ironfist spoke.

"You need to put your hand on the crest and the Potter family magic will recognise you. The same crest also guards the family money vault. If an imposter were to try accessing either of these vaults, he or she would be enjoying the hospitality of our guard dragons, which is assuming if they were not struck dead by the Potter family magic first."

Harry did as instructed, watching as the griffin in the crest roared and the phoenixes seemed to regard him for a moment, before the door opened. He entered, his eyes trying to take everything at once. The amount of magic in here was making his senses go haywire. The vault was two times the size of privet drive itself. It contained numerous chests while swords and shields of various makes and ages were hung up on the walls, all polished to a shine.

In the middle of the room sat three small boxes on the pedestal, all illuminated by a soft golden glow. They were decorated with the family crest. Harry could _see_ the Potter Family magic, all golden, red and an earthy brown, calling out to him, almost as if it had recognised him as the sole Potter remaining. It was a comforting feeling.

Ironfist watched Harry taking in all the sights as he spoke. "The family vault is almost twenty times larger than this. You can go their once you have taken up the Potter headship. Anyway, the three boxes in front of you are the Lord, Lady and Heir rings. The one on the right is what you need."

Harry took said box in his hands, marveling at the feel of his core responding to the growing strains of the family magic that seemed to call out to him from the box. Opening the box, he found a solid platinum ring inscribed with the family motto running down its delicate width and it. A moderately sized ruby sat in the center. Harry slid it on and almost at once, the family magics seemed to enfold on him, scanning him, judging him, and then welcoming him to the family. The magics then dumped thousands of years' of worth of history of the Potter Clan into his memory. The blanks in information about the Potter Clan, which had been present in his book, were now being filled by the ring.

He was broken from his trance by Ironfist's voice.

"Congratulations Heir Potter. The ring and the family magics have accepted you. No one will dare question your claim to the House of Potter."

Harry nodded his thanks, while asking a question that had popped up in his head. "Can I hide the ring from my finger? I would prefer it to be visible when I need it to be, instead of parading it around."

"Just will it to happen, and it'll do so."

Harry did so, noticing the ring vanish, though he still retained the comfortable weight on his finger.

"This vault also contains the Potter Grimoire, though I recommend that leave it alone for now, as there are some family magics that can't be wielded by a minor, especially an eleven year old. The person would be knocked unconscious, or worse, due to the power requirements only."

Harry looked at Ironfist, allowing himself to show off for the first time. He wanted people, especially people close to him, to know that he was not to be underestimated.

He allowed his magic to manifest around him, letting it run loose without his normally tight control binding it. His magic happily bubbled out of his pores, creating an aura around Harry that showed up as a dull gold, greens and reds spread throughout. All the while, Harry's emerald eyes were glowing slightly. He nonchalantly waved his hand towards a short hunting knife on the far wall that shot towards him, allowing him to pluck it out of the air with ease with preternatural reflexes.

"You were saying?"

It was Ironfist's turn to gape. The human in front of him displayed a casual talent for wandless magic that many people could only dream about, and his magic manifested as an _aura_. It was astonishing and scary at the same time.

It was obvious that Harry had excellent control over his magic that was on par with people more than a decade his senior or more, with matching power levels. Once he went through his magical maturity, there was no telling what would happen, or how powerful Harry would get. The Potter bloodline had obviously bred true. He mentally shook himself, smirking. It seemed many people were going to get a kick up their posteriors if they tried to wrangle with the youngling in front of him.

* * *

Harry stepped out into the open streets of Diagon Alley, noting that it had been three hours since he had entered it. He grinned to himself. Ironfist had been stuck dumb by his little display. When he had come back to his senses, Harry had asked him not to reveal this to anybody. Ironfist had acquiesced, making the point that the less people knew, the better.

His next destination was to get his wand. He walked among the streets, noting that people seemed a lot more aware of him now. They pointed and smiled at him, breaking into jubilation when Harry responded. It was evident that the happenings in the Leaky Cauldron had gotten out while he had been conducting his business at Gringotts. He would have to deal with it.

He came to a stop outside Ollivander's, noting the amount of magical energy that saturated the place. It was the most magical point of the alley, leaving aside Gringotts. His senses tingled as he entered, taking note of where the wandmaker had hidden his presence and had scanned him discreetly when he had entered.

"Good evening" his soft voice sounded through the shop, in hopes of making Harry jump. Ollivander's brow furrowed as Harry did not even twitch in surprise. The young boy was an interesting one, for sure. He then caught himself as he glimpsed the scar on the forehead.

"Good evening sir, I am here for my wand."

"Harry Potter, I did not expect you this soon, I thought the Hogwarts letters went out today?"

"Yes they did sir, but I could not wait, I was too eager."

Ollivander nodded as he turned back into the shop, getting a tape measure and some boxes. Harry listened as the man spoke about his work and the kind of wands he made. The love and passion in the old man's voice were something Harry took note of. The man obviously loved his work. All the while, Ollivander measured him in some of the most improbable places he had ever measured.

"All right Mr Potter, let's get started. I'll be handing you wands and you'll be giving them a wave. The wand you get the strongest reaction from shall be the wand you'll be using."

Harry nodded, as Ollivander started handing him wands. He took the first one and gave it a wave, the reaction was non-existent. He took the next one. Nothing happened. This happened with every subsequent wand until Harry was handed a wand from which he sensed a muted response. A few dull sparks shot out from the tip of the wand, as Ollivander looked at him in surprise and delight as he explained.

"Well Mr Potter, it is obviously the wand you'll be taking, but it is not fully cohesive with your magic. This wand made from holly is eleven and quarter inches in length with a phoenix feather as the core, which incidentally matches the core of the Dark Lord's wand that gave you the scar. Though it seems that your magic is a bit too powerful for this wand. It appears that we'll need a few extra additions for you. Come along."

Ollivander shut the door to his shop as he gestured for Harry to follow him into his workspace.

"I have almost everything I need here Mr Potter. It is here that I live and it is in here that I have been crafting wands for more than a century. They are my life and livelihood."

Harry started, Ollivander was that old? Ollivander continued to speak as he set up his tools.

"Run your hand along the shelves Harry, and point to me the materials you get the strongest responses from."

Harry did not bother to do so. He had already been reaching out with his magic the moment he had entered the room. He strode in the direction of the two shelves which had responded strongly to his magic. Pointing them out, he noted Ollivander's surprise as he understood that Harry had detected the required cores in one sweep, instead of a trial by error approach.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful. You have a very strong connection with magic, and at such an early age too. And to think that it will flourish once you start at Hogwarts!"

Harry already knew that, so he waited for Ollivander to continue.

"Now, these are two materials are a feather from an Imperial Griffin, while the other is phoenix ash. Your wand, when complete, will essentially embody the Light. It will be protective and fierce, that comes from the Griffin, while being the essence of light, which comes from the phoenix feather and ash. I daresay you will never be able to cast dark curses with it, while your protective and battle magics will be very strong."

Harry nodded happily, his wand cores came from the creatures on his family crest, in essence, his family guardians.

"Now please wait by the counter, or take a nap while I finish the wand, Mr Potter."

Harry went and sat by the counter, leaving the man to work in peace and solitude as he immersed himself in meditation, easily sinking into a trance.

* * *

Two hours later he was broken out of it as Ollivander came hobbling out, carry a thin box.

"It is finished Mr Potter."

Harry stood up, extending his hands out for the box. "May I?"

Ollivander passed him the box as Harry took the wand out and gave it a wave. A fountain of red and gold sparks came pouring it, almost blinding in their intensity. Almost immediately, he felt the core mixing and entwining intimately together with his magic, becoming his friend and partner for life. Ollivander watched as green eyes glowed with the joining of boy and wand. He was happy that such a powerful wand was in the hands of someone worthy; glad he was not committing a mistake this time around.

Harry admired the wand as Ollivander explained what he had done.

"I had to craft a new holly blank Mr Potter, as the old one did not have enough space to store a core like this. Hence you'll find that it is a bit longer at twelve and a half inches. The phoenix feather core and the griffin one were entwined around each other in a helix before being sprinkled liberally with phoenix ash. It also has a bit of emerald ground down and added as a focussing medium, which is concealed in the wand. All this was done without magic. I am sure of this much Mr Potter, very few wizards can stand up to you with this wand. It is one of the most powerful combinations that I have ever worked with. You will go far with it. Although if ever stray to the dark side, you will find that this wand no longer owes you its allegiance. Be warned."

Harry took the old wandmaker's words to heart, never having contemplated any thoughts of that nature.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Thirty five galleons, Mr Potter. If I may say so, it was an honour to make this wand."

Harry forked out the required amount of money as left the shop with a nod and thanks to Ollivander.

He next went to the apothecary and purchased a full set of high quality potions equipment and ingredients, all the while refusing as the owner kept posturing and offering him a discount. This happened at every store, be it robes, a trunk, books or even when he was buying quills and parchment. He had to refuse all their offers as wanted to be treated normally, not like some spoiled, smug, smarmy peacock. (_Hint, Hint_) He bought his school uniform and some extra robes with the Potter crest on it as formal wear for special occasions. He also ended up buying a shrinkable three compartment trunk made of teak with expanded space and his magical signature set as a password.

Lastly, he entered the owl emporium, where he was greeted by numerous eyes staring down at him unblinkingly. He walked towards the counter where a man sat, reading the Daily Prophet. He looked up and saw Harry at the counter.

"How can I help you sir?"

"I need an owl, a cage, a collapsible perch, and a full years' supply of owl treats."

"You may browse as you wish sir. Feel free to take the one that suits you most."

Harry browsed the shelves, noting the various species that rested there. He was about to take a closer look at a particularly handsome eagle owl when he caught sight of something at the back of the shop. It was a beautiful snowy owl, staring at him with large and soulful amber eyes. Intrigued, he went up to her and opened her cage, ignoring the panicking shopkeeper.

"No sir! Don't do that! That's a very temperamental owl. She'll bite your fing-". The shop manager stopped mid outburst as he regarded the scene in front of him with wide eyes. Harry arm was outstretched while the snowy was perched there peacefully. Boy and owl were regarding each other with their eyes, emerald meeting amber in an unwavering gaze, while a slight glow surrounded them.

"By Merlin, she's his familiar" the shopkeeper whispered in awe. Never had he heard of a familiar bond being formed this quickly.

Indeed, it was an astute observation as Harry now felt the owl's consciousness at the periphery of his own. He did not understand what had happened. One moment he was taking a close look at her, the next a sudden cascade of magic, similar to his bonding with his wand, had filtered into his core. He felt a very close connection with the owl, who he somehow knew was now his companion for life. He noticed the shopkeeper gaping at him and asked,

"Is something the matter, sir?"

The shopkeeper was broken out of his comatose state when he noticed that his customer, who was _Harry Potter_ no less, was asking him something.

"No Mr Potter, there's no problem at all. Do you know what just happened?"

Harry shook his head.

"Mr Potter, you just formed a familiar bond with that owl. She has been here for two years and almost bites off the fingers off anyone who attempts to get even close to her. Although I understand why that was the case; she was fated to become your familiar. This is an extremely rare happening, and it was incredible to witness in person."

Harry turned to the snowy owl, who was perched on his shoulder, quite content. "So you're my girl now, are you?" She bobbed her head. "Thank you for choosing me. Also we need to get you a pretty name" She hooted happily.

The shopkeeper shook his head bemused, as he beheld the improbable conversation between Harry and his familiar.

"Here is your cage, your perch and a year's supply of owl treats. Will you need anything else sir?"

Harry shook his head, paying the required amount as he strolled out of the shop, all purchases stowed away in his now shrunk trunk, while the snowy owl perched on his shoulder, not moving as people stared at the boy who lived and his new companion.

He did not know that despite all his efforts of coming across as normal, he had started a new chapter in the legend of Harry Potter.

**-End-**

* * *

**_Author's Notes:_**

_By my standards, that's a monster of a chapter. Also I have borrowed the 'diaper' comment and the name 'Ironfist' from stories that I don't remember the names of. If any one does, please mention it in a review or pm and I'll be glad to assign them their due credit._

_Also, there are some spellings which may differ from American spelling, like colour for color, etc. I am using British English as the base in MSWord, so my laptop does not highlight it as wrong. So please ignore them. _

_Thank you all for the reviews, the favourites and the alerts. It heartens me that so many people across so many countries see this story as being worthy of their time and patience. It is extremely humbling. I hope I continue to live up to your expectations. Please continue to read and review. My drive to see this story to its finish is boosted by your feedback. Any and all reviews are welcome and endorsed._

_Sincerely,_

_Lust of Alucard_

_**Poll Notice: Please Vote on my poll. It'll be closed by the time Halloween comes up in the fic.**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Do not own Harry Potter or its associated franchises. All characters are property of J.K.R and Warner Bros and other concerned agencies.

A.N : Teenage thoughts in this chapter, a bit sugary. Fair warning, as you'll see.

* * *

Chapter 5 – The Journey, Introductions and a Friend

Human nature is ever changing. It can be fickle one moment and attentive the next. As such, a person overlooks many things when he is in a hurry, like people who disappear through a wall in a very busy station. Such was the situation at King's Cross. This was where platform Nine and Three Quarters was located, from where the Hogwarts express packed with children departed on 1st September to make its yearly sojourn to an old castle in Scotland.

Hermione Granger was a bright eyed girl of eleven, going on twelve and one of those people. She was currently dragging her parents over to said platform almost an hour before the train was scheduled for departure, while her father Daniel Granger struggled with a heavy trunk which was packed to bursting.

"Good Lord Princess, what on earth did you stuff into that trunk? It feels as though you crammed your entire room into it!"

Hermione coloured a bit, while replying indignantly. "Please Daddy, don't exaggerate. I only packed my regular schoolbooks, and some _extras _for_ light _reading."

Emma Granger was watching the byplay with amusement as her husband kept mumbling "Extras? Light? Regular?" She knew that her daughter while bright and vivacious, was often side-lined and mocked by her peers due to her exceedingly high intellect. She had watched her daughter suffer for years, lonely because she couldn't make any friends and hurt because more than often she was bullied by her peers. All this had caused Hermione to retreat into a shell; she only opened up to her parents after that, often spending her time secluded with books. It was the curse of being working parents; they could simply not give their daughter the attention she obviously deserved.

It was for this reason why Emma had needed a minimum of convincing when on Hermione's eleventh birthday, an old distinguished lady wearing archaic robes had knocked on their doorstep and announced that her daughter was _magical _of all things, and she would need to spend eight months a year away in Scotland getting magically trained. She was inclined to laugh and tell the obviously deranged lady to leave, when the lady, who introduced herself as professor Minerva McGonagall from the school, had produced a stick from her robes and turned one of her prized teacups into a kitten in front of their faces. Hermione was overcome with excitement at learning magic and having an opportunity of making new friends. Emma and Dan simply couldn't bring themselves to break their Princess' little heart, and had folded rather quickly. So here she was, mentally prepping herself to stay without her darling for the next three months.

She looked at her little girl, knowing that Hermione was nervous as hell, obviously hiding it under her enthusiastic behaviour. Emma frowned, kneeling down in front of her as she spoke.

"Hermione I know that you are scared of going to a new place, away from me and your dad. But you must also see this as an opportunity to make new friends and acquaintances."

Hermione looked up with a slight tremor on her lips. She was losing control and Emma quickly hugged her and soon she could hear quiet sniffles coming from Hermione. She continued to assure her, as only a mother can.

"Don't worry dear, I am sure you will make some very good friends there. I want you to be brave and put your utmost into everything. Never let anyone tell you what to do and remember that it is only your decisions that you can rely on. Be the strong, brave, independent girl I know you are."

Hermione nodded as she wiped hear tears. "You are right as always mom. I'll do my best."

She then hugged her parents tightly and climbed aboard the train. Her dad hoisted in the trunk after her. As the train began to move out of the station, she waved her goodbyes and dragged her trunk after her, looking for a compartment that was preferably empty.

She soon found one, and slid open the door. Only to find that instead of being empty as she thought, there was someone sitting there. She started in surprise as green eyes behind rimless glasses looked at her.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you, I didn't know any one was sitting here. I'll be on my way."

* * *

Harry Potter was currently sitting in an empty compartment of the Hogwarts Express, perusing his Transfiguration book. His last week at Privet Drive had been a lot of fun. He got to do what he liked most -that is- read, no body disturbed him, and most of all, he had gotten a beautiful companion that would be with him for all his life.

Having lived all his life without any friends or confidantes and having only himself to rely on for so long, he had somewhat underestimated the value of companionship and friends.

Hedwig, as he had named his snowy familiar, had shown what it meant to have someone that could understand you as deeply as yourself. Maybe it was the familiar bond, but he had opened up incredibly fast to her. At nights, he would lay on his bed with her on her perch, she looking at him while he shared snippets of his childhood with her. Hedwig was already a magical being, intelligent and the ability to understand him already inbred in her. The bond between them had made it possible for him to understand her responses and feelings to the conversation. It was not lucid speech, but she communicated by feelings and sometimes, images. Her method worked incredibly well, and now it was second nature for the both of them to hold a conversation that lasted for minutes or hours. That's not to say that the pair didn't strange while doing so.

He had read his prescribed school books and the extra guides that he himself had selected as being necessary, in Transfiguration, Charms and most importantly, Potions. These three were the core subjects that Hogwarts offered up to the seventh year, and if you wanted to succeed in any career in the wizarding world, a thorough grounding in all these three was a must.

His inroads into the texts had him intrigued and excited at the same time. Apparently, what Transfiguration needed was the required mindset to cast spells that would defy all laws of physics and would change an object into another. Incantations were few, all possible transformations were grouped into categories. Like non-living to non-living, non-living to living, living to living and vice versa to name a few. Although, there were a set of rules that governed the field. Real food, for example could not be conjured. Whatever you conjured was tasty, looked filling but would provide absolutely zero nourishment.

The magics of this field demanded focus, a clear imagination, and the want. It also required a fair bit of power. People could overload the spells if they wanted, and the result would be achieved in partial form. Not Harry though. He had been using all of the three aspects as principles for his wandless magic and had power in spades. Learn to channel your magic through a wand, apply the same concepts and voila, he had Transfiguration down pat.

Charms was more about the wand motions and the intricacies of the magic actually leaving your wand. Accuracy and precision ruled the field. The pronunciation and the wand movement were of prime importance. Without them, you could brute force your way all you wanted and still, results would elude you. Unlike Transfiguration, the scope of charms was unlimited. You had spells to do everything. If no spells were available, people invented them. Charms in essence was flexible, varying and versatile, which appealed a great deal to Harry. He liked subjects that posed a challenge.

Potions was precise. There was no other adjective for it. It was science, put down to an art form that required countless hours of dedication and research to achieve high quality results. It was like magical chemistry; you had to understand and remember the rules, measure the exact proportions and keep a keen eye on your work, else you would end up with a useless and sometimes lethal mess. This was what made potions masters the most highly regarded in the world. Innovation ruled the roost and no short cuts would not help you here. He wanted to be prepared and hence he had read a lot. He had learnt by heart the underlying procedures of brewing and safety that governed Potions, not leaving anything to chance.

This morning, he had gotten up early at the break of dawn as was his habit and had done a few exercises, both in meditation and physical. He had packed everything of importance in his trunk. After his ablutions, he had come down for breakfast. After feeding Hedwig some bacon, he had allowed her to fly to Hogwarts on her own. She had an inbuilt navigation, and her sense of direction always held true. She would be waiting for him, he was sure.

He hadn't wanted to bother his Aunt, so after saying his goodbyes had once more availed the services of the Knight Bus, this time to Kings Cross. Having arrived almost an hour and a half early, he wasn't recognised by the sparse crowd at the platform. To his good fortune, nobody had bothered him, till now.

Harry had looked up from his book at hearing the compartment slide open. There was a girl trying to get her trunk into the compartment. She had bushy chocolate brown hair which looked out of control - _similar to his own he noted -_ and warm cinnamon eyes and fair skin, with slightly larger than usual front teeth and stood half a head shorter than him. She looked cute, Harry thought as he held back a blush.

When she saw him, started apologising to him and moved to leave, he immediately got up and helped her into the compartment.

"No need to apologise. This is almost an empty compartment and there's plenty of space. Come inside, help yourself, I was getting lonely anyways." he spoke with a smile as he stowed her trunk into the overhead rack. He then gestured for her to take a seat as he settled back into place with his book.

Hermione for her part, blushed a bit at his chivalry and smiled at him as he helped her. No stranger her age, except her parents, family and few others, had shown her kindness, much more preferring to bully her or to deride her intelligence. She took a seat opposite him as she observed him.

Vibrant green eyes sparkled behind rimless glasses as he read their Transfiguration text. His jet black hair was tousled in an adorable way, _she thought_, as he lounged on his seat with casual elegance and a gracefulness which was not often seen in their peers. He had an air of control and self-confidence that would have not looked out of place on thirty something adults. She noted with a mental blush that his muscles were defined in a manner that should not be possible for children of eleven and that he looked particularly handsome. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the lightning bolt scar which peeked out from behind his fringe as he absently moved his hair out of his eyes. All teenage thoughts were blown out of her mind as she recalled what she had read in _Recent Developments in Magical History_, her inquisitive mind coming to the fore_. _

She launched a query at him before she could help herself.

"You're Harry Potter aren't you?"

Harry looked up from his book at the sudden and _expected_ question from the so far quiet girl. Though she did not sound probing, merely curious. She looked mortified and red from her sudden outburst, her hands over her mouth. He quirked an eyebrow as he answered,

"Yes, I suppose I am. You seem to know my name, even with my not having said anything. Mind introducing yourself so that we can even the score?"

Hermione relaxed, he did not find her question invasive. She did not want to come across as rude and discourage him from even talking to her.

"My name is Hermione Granger. I'm sorry, I could not help myself. I have read a lot about you in books. I had no clue that you would be in the same year as me."

Harry nodded at that. Been an avid reader himself, he had noticed that his name had popped up in several books, often making him out as a hero and as someone who had performed many acts of bravery, was living in a castle and led a spoiled life as a pompous prince.

He would seek to dissuade people from this preconceived notion as soon as possible, starting with her. Putting away his book, he spoke,

"I assume that you come from non-magical parents, yes?"

Hermione stiffened, feeling that he was also someone that would look down upon her. She was proud of her parents and would let no one badmouth her. She had read about the prejudiced practices that were prevalent in the magical world, and had deduced that she would have a tough time. Setting her face in a scowl, she answered brusquely,

"Yes. What of it?"

Harry saw the hint of anger on her face and deduced correctly that she believed him to a spoilt brat. He reassured her with his words,

"No, you misunderstand me. I'm not a person who discriminates between people based on their blood or their ancestry. My own mother came from a non-magical background and I am proud of her."

Hermione sat back chastised, the lines on her face softening. She listened as he continued to speak.

"I do not like the term 'muggle' and absolutely loath the word 'mudblood', the terms the magical world considers standard for people like you and me. I merely asked the question because you seem to have the same thoughts about me that all these people who have read the books have. I assure you that I'm not a spoilt prince. In fact, I did not know about being magical and my so called 'Boy-Who-Lived' status" – here he gestured with his fingers – "until I was eight. I have lived with my aunt, uncle and my cousin in Surrey, who by the way, don't have a shred of magic in their bodies. I also would like to tell you that I have not come face to face with a dragon or wyvern or whatever fancy creature that is mentioned in those books about me. I am as curious as you, a student who is going to Hogwarts for the first time."

Hermione looked downright embarrassed, not to mention sheepish by now. She had completely misjudged him. She hastened to speak,

"I'm sorry, I just assumed what I had read in the books was true. It was my mistake."

She kept quiet after that, as she bought her own copy of their Transfiguration text out and started to browse through it, hiding her now crimson face.

The train jerked as it started to depart, ferrying then to Hogwarts. She looked out of the window, seeing platform nine and three quarters behind them as the express started to pick up speed.

She was startled when Harry spoke,

"Don't feel bad, it was an honest mistake." Hermione smiled at him, feeling the tension draining away.

"So, which of our classes do you like the most? I assume it is Transfiguration?"

Hermione nodded enthusiastically as she replied, glad that that they were treading onto less awkward grounds now.

"Yes, it is. I find it very fascinating that one thing can be moulded into another with a wave of a wand. It seems to a most interesting subject. What's yours?"

"Charms and potions. Don't mind, I like transfiguration too, but I find the versatility of charms and the exacting nature of potions very appealing while transfiguration gives equal emphasis to theory. I find myself leaning towards charms and to a lesser extent potions, as I'm more of a practically oriented student."

Hermione nodded, she had also found them to be the same, but her opinions had been swayed by McGonagall performing transfiguration in front of her eyes.

"I agree with you, but it's just that Professor McGonagall came to our house and showed me and my parents some amazing live transfiguration and I was hooked by that. She's the head of Gryffindor and our transfiguration teacher. I hope to be in her house. What about you, any preferences?"

Harry nodded as he answered, "Yep, Gryffindor's my choice too. My parents and my whole family with a few exceptions were ones too. I just want to live up to their legacy. Besides, Professor Dumbledore, our headmaster was from there too. May be we can be friends there too, right?"

Hermione was shocked, Harry wanted to be her friend? It was obvious that he, like her, also had intelligence and maturity that was above that of their peers, so it was not a question of him trying to take advantage of hers, as many a _supposed friend_ had done before. It was an honest wish and hence, she found herself delighted.

She opened her mouth to answer him but before she could do so, the door to their compartment slid open and a red headed boy looked in. He was tall for their age, about two inches taller than Harry and his cheeks were freckled. He had blue eyes that seemed trained on Harry in particular as he barged into their compartment.

"Hello, can I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

Harry and Hermione looked at him, measuring him up. He was obviously lying, as both had seen that there were plenty of other compartments that had seats waiting to be filled. Nevertheless, they decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Harry, in particular cast a most penetrating gaze at the red headed boy as he spoke up,

"Sure take a seat, and introduce yourself."

Ron seemed unnerved at the glowing green eyes as he hastened to answer. "My name's Ronald Weasley, what are yours?"

"My name's Harry James Potter and this delightful pretty maiden is Hermione Granger."

Ron's eyes widened with awe as he fixed Harry with a look bordering on worship while Hermione blushed furiously at his words. "Are you really? Wow mate you're a hero, I'm so lucky, I'm sitting with Harry Potter! By the way, can I see your scar?"

Harry had expected these kind of queries from his fellow students, so he let Ron's behaviour slide. He nodded and lifted his fringe to show his scar. Ron's eyes widened in wonder and he kept staring at Harry, as if he was particularly something fascinating.

Harry turned to Hermione and asked, "So what were you going to say? I remember asking for your friendship before Ron came in."

Hermione was only too happy to reply, "Sure, I would be particularly pleased to. I'm sure we shall get along nicely. You seem like someone who I could hold an intelligent conversation with. Apart from my parents, out of everyone I grew up with, no one seemed interested in an intellectual talk."

Harry nodded, pleased that he had gotten his first friend. Ron, on the other hand looked on with rising jealousy at the girl who had made friends with Harry before he had managed to do so. Hermione and Harry, oblivious to Ron's thoughts, continued to converse with each other.

Harry nodded, he knew what it felt like to live with a bunch of morons.

"I know, my uncle and cousin who I stay with have the mental capacity of a snail and the devouring capacity of a whale" he said, not knowing that the statement also applied to gormless redhead that was currently staring at him in a very creepy way that made him feel unclean.

Hermione giggled at his statement, before asking him a question that she had been wondering about.

"So how do think they'll sort us? McGonagall was not very forthcoming on that."

Harry answered, pondering, "You know, I'm not sure as well. Though I'm sure it'll be based on our core personalities, our thoughts, and our wishes. You and I, for example could go into either Ravenclaw out Gryffindor. We both like learning while our personalities lean towards Gryffindor. I think it'll be touch and go."

Hermione nodded happily at Harry's answer, a small blush colouring her cheeks. She was happy that Harry seemed to want her in the same house as him. She would be sure to go with Harry in whichever house they were sorted into. She opened her mouth to reply, before she was interrupted by the rude red head who it seemed, could not hold his thoughts in any longer.

"Why would do you want to be friends with someone like her anyway? Look at her, she's a bookworm! Boys are not supposed to be bookish! We'll be best mates for sure, as you're going to be in Gryffindor like myself."

Ron, as he did often, ran off with his mouth, not noticing Hermione's hurt expression. He continued, to Harry's rising ire,

"We'll go on adventures together. We'll be heroes side by side! She'll just bore us. Come on, let's ditch her and find someplace elsewhere to sit."

Harry's response was not what Ron and Hermione had been expecting. Hermione not knowing Harry as well and ruled by her own insecurities, had been somewhat scared that Harry would immediately disregard her and make friends with Ron, especially since she hadn't gotten to know him for long, and it grated on her nerves.

Ron was expecting Harry to leap at his offer for friendship. After all who would want to be friends with a girl?_ (A.N. Ron, poor dear, is still in the cooties stage, so you'll have to excuse him)._ They would be best friends, going on wonderful quests and he would be Harry's best mate and a hero in his own right. No one would dare to talk down at him, no more would he have to hide in anyone's shadow any longer. He would be rich and famous. He was jerked out of thoughts by the sudden feeling of foreboding in the compartment and a slow, vicious, suffocating sensation that seemed to be affecting him in particular.

Harry's slowly turned his head towards Ron, his eyes shadowed and hidden underneath his shaggy hair. His emotions were boiling over and the rage rising from inside him was solely aimed at the red head. He had faced plenty of people like him in his childhood, acting on preconceived notions and it did not please him to say the least. Moreover, the disheartened expression on Hermione's visage and the eager and slightly _hungry_ look on Ron's, with the way he had completely disregarded Hermione's emotions did not appeal to him in the slightest.

He lifted up his head to stare Ron directly in the eyes. The look in those eyes would have sent Ron running for the loo and made to do so, only to find that his legs couldn't move. Not out of nervousness – he was that too - but he actually couldn't move them out of his own volition, as if something was binding them. He stood rooted to the spot, gulping as a heavy feeling, a _pressure_ bore down on him.

Harry's eyes were blazing Avada Kedavra green as the smell of ozone began to seep into the vicinity. He was literally oozing magic, his presence stifling as he answered in a deadened voice that sent shivers down the spine of the red head.

"I abhor people like you. Not caring for other people's emotions, acting on their thoughts without regard for others and hurting others without any guilt. You disgust me. You come here, start talking to me as if we were long lost brothers, being rude and uncouth to the extreme. Bookworm Hermione may be, but she is an honest person, someone I would be glad to have as a lifelong friend. You on the other hand, came into our compartment solely looking for Harry Potter with a selfish motive and in the process completely side-lined Hermione's emotions."

"But mate, she's a girl and just a mugglebo—"

"SILENCE!"

Ron lost whatever bravado he had as Harry's voice rose into a shout. The trunks overhead rattled ominously as he continued his tirade on the hapless redhead.

"I detest that _word_ and you would do well to remember it. For your information, my mother was from non-magical backgrounds. Ridiculing Hermione means ridiculing my mother, Lily Potter, the person who Voldemort saw last before he perished. Yet people, _sheep _like you keep on lauding me. A baby that was one year old at the time, facing up to a monster that had killed thousands. Listen to yourself, sounding like a fool."

By this time, his voice had regained its blank, chastising tone, making Ron feel even more scared.

"Get out of here. I will reserve my judgement on you since we possibly will be sharing a dorm and will be in the same house. If you want to be my friend, or _anyone's friend_ at all, leave aside your bigoted stupidity and learn to watch your mouth. Also, if you breathe a word of this to any one, you won't like the consequences. Now leave!"

At his last syllable, the compartment door slid open on its own as the binding numbness on Ron's ankles vanished. The stifling aura of Harry's magic died down as he reeled it back under control. Ron stood there pale, with his mouth agape and frame shaking before he quickly collected his belongings and hauled ass out of there.

Breathing heavily and trying to calm himself, Harry sat down.

Meanwhile, Hermione watched Harry, both in awe and blushing in equal parts. No one had defended her to this extent, to the extent of refusing friendships for her sake and protecting her honour. Now she really wanted to be his friend. She blinked as Harry spoke.

"I'm sorry for losing control, I didn't mean to frighten you. It's just that the git reminded me a lot of my cousin and uncle; loud-mouthed, uncultured, intolerant and insulting. I hope you still want to be my friend."

Hermione was very glad for that as she nodded with a blush and enthusiasm. "Of course I want to be your friend. Honestly Harry, if you defend someone who is not even a friend like that, I think the decision was already made."

She continued, curious at his abilities,

"You must be a very strong wizard Harry. I could _feel_ your magic! And wandless magic too! How did you do that?"

Harry blushed at her words. He had never been one to take compliments from people well.

"I have been practising Hermione, since I was eight. Please don't ask me questions about it. I can't tell people unless I trust them completely. Please understand that it is not a slight on your character. It's just that I don't know you well. That's all."

Hermione's expression which had been gradually turning discouraged through Harry's explanation perked up at his last words.

"So you can tell me later? By the time we become close friends?"

Harry nodded, sighing as he answered. "I suppose, why not. If we can become close friends, there's no reason why I can't tell you my secrets. After all it's only fair that I win your trust first. I only ask that you keep this little display quiet."

Hermione nodded, satisfied. She would not break his trust if she could help it. They settled into a comfortable banter as the train got closer to Hogwarts.

* * *

Their conversation continued all the way till noon at which point of time, the lunch trolley came in.

"Anything off the cart children?"

Harry did not want lunch, since he had already packed some pasta, but still wanted to sample some of the sweets that were available as he had a bit of a sweet tooth. Hermione having dentists for parents, looked on aghast as Harry purchased some of every sweet that was available on the lady's cart.

"Harry? Are you really going to eat all of these? They'll make you ill, not mention your teeth shall be rotten by the time you finish all of these."

Harry chuckled as he replied, "I suppose your parents are dentists, then? But no, I was hoping to share some with you, if you don't mind."

Hermione chuckled as she answered him, "Yes, they are. And no Harry I won't eat sweets, but I'll have some of that spaghetti, if you please."

Harry passed over some, as he continued to eat his sweets. Hermione took a bite, her eyes widening as she exclaimed, "Harry, this is so good! Who cooked it?"

Harry smiled a pleased grin as he answered, "Who else but me, my fair maiden. Did you think only women could cook?"

Hermione blushed softly, "No, no just that my father can burn water and I think his cooking talents passed on to me. I can't conduct myself well in the kitchen Harry, if only I could cook as well as you."

"Don't worry I can tea—"

Once again, they were interrupted in the same fashion as before as the compartment door opened. A blonde haired boy with pale grey eyes stood there, flanked by two hulking mini ogres no less, smirking with all the arrogance in the world. Harry mentally rolled his eyes thinking '_Yep, pureblood ponce here. I really don't have the time or patience to deal with him, and I really do not want to display anymore wandless miracles if I can help it.' _

With a grin that Hermione could immediately classify as fake, Harry asked with all the sugary sweetness in his voice that seemed to have come from the load of sweets he had eaten, an idea already taking root in his mind.

"Yes, how may we help you gentlemen?"

"My name's Draco Malfoy. I don't suppose that you _commoners _know where Harry Potter is in this train right? I have important business to conduct with him, not that filthy muggles like you would know anything about it."

Harry nodded as he cast about his senses to encompass the train. He mentally grinned as he found the magical signature he was looking for, and he zeroed in on the position as he answered – _no_,_ simpered -_ in the most subservient tone he could manage.

"Oh yes, my _lord._ They are saying that Harry Potter is sitting in the carriage two compartments from here, near the pantry. I think the girls passing by said he has red hair and absolutely _alluring _blue eyes. I think I heard them squealing for his autograph from here."

By now, even Hermione was hiding a smile as she correctly deduced Harry was up to something.

Malfoy looked satisfied, if not a little unnerved at Harry's tone and answer as he replied "That's all right. Keep that tone, muggle and you just might get near to lick my shoes. Come on Crabbe and Goyle, let's find Potter and rescue him. The stench of _commoners _is stifling here."

As he left, Harry and Hermione could hear him muttering in confusion "Harry Potter looks like a Weasley?"and theyburst out in laughter. Harry shut and locked the compartment wandlessly as Hermione managed to speak through her giggles,

"What was that Harry, where did you send him? He'll come right back here when he knows you're Harry Potter."

Harry smirked as he answered, "I sent one bothersome person to tackle another. Dear Ronald Weasley is sitting in that compartment alone not knowing that his _Drakey Poo_ is heading there to protect him from _commoners _like us."

"But how did you know that?"

"You'll learn later Hermione, I promise."

"I suppose it's another of your secrets right?" Harry nodded. "No problem, I'll learn when I'll earn your trust."

Harry smiled at Hermione, who blushed prettily. They cast their ears about, listening for the _dulcet_ voices that were sure to come in. True to form, they heard _them_ moments later,

"You're not a Weasley, You're a Potter!"

"No I'm not! I'm a Weasley! Potter is sitting the way _you_ came from."

"Can't be, all of those were filthy muggles. Harry Potter doesn't sit with commoners! You're Potter, stop hiding yourself!"

"Go to Hell Malfoy!"

"You're coming with me!"

Ronald Bilius Weasley and Draco Abraxas Malfoy were in each other's faces as they yelled at each other. It was like watching a lover's quarrel. Their conflict came to a head moments later when the prefects patrolling the train broke them up and sent them scurrying back to their respective compartments.

Harry and Hermione were drowning in their laughter as they listened to the passionate lover's spat taking place. They could barely speak through their laughter. Finally, Harry somewhat managed to wrest some control back, as he said,

"Did you hear that?"

Hermione was almost hiccupping while she answered, "Yeah, it was almost like watching an old married couple argue. Now that I think of it, these two would make a very sweet pair if it came to that."

Harry stared at her for a few moments before he broke into laughter once again, Hermione joining him. It was the first time that he had let himself go of his serious façade and laugh openly, and it felt good to do so. He looked at Hermione, she looked very pretty as she laughed, he thought. Then he banished the mental slip up as he tried not to blush.

A little while later, looking at his watch, Harry saw that it was almost seven in the evening. A lot of time had gone by without him noticing. It was dark outside as he looked out of the window, maybe they were approaching their destination. As if on cue, a voice sounded through the train,

"Please change into your robes, we'll be reaching Hogsmeade in half an hour. Leave your trunks on the train please, they'll be taken to school separately."

Harry looked at Hermione and said, "I'll be waiting outside while you change. I'll take my turn after you do so."

Hermione nodded as Harry removed himself from their compartment while she changed. He waited for a few minutes after which she came and let him have his turn. When they were both in their school robes and seated, he looked at her and questioned,

"I wonder how we'll be going up to the school. You know anything about it?"

Hermione nodded as she replied, "Yes, apparently since we're first years, we'll be taken up to the school in boats across the Black Lake. The older years shall be transported in horseless carriages and will be seated there by the time we arrive. I read it in _Hogwarts, A History."_

Harry looked as he replied, amused "I'm so glad I became your friend. Now I'll be showered with facts and figures all day to my good fortune." Hermione giggled while she batted at him playfully.

During their playful banter the train had come to a stop as people moved to get off it. Harry and Hermione joined the throng as the got off the train, Harry's shrunken trunk in his pocket. He wasn't about to trust just about anybody with his trunk. They heard a rough voice calling out to them,

"Firs' years, o'er here! Any firs' years, to me!"

The speaker was an extremely tall and heavyset _giant_ of a man, towering above them. He had shaggy, unkempt black hair that comprised of the growth on his head, his beard and his moustache, not that you could tell where any of them ended and the others began. Kindly black eyes filled with warmth glinted as he gathered them into a closely spaced group.

"So that's the lot? No stragglers?"

Everyone was too nervous to say anything, so after a while, he led them down a well beaten path, eventually coming to a line of little boats that floated gently close to the banks of a great lake, its waters calm and still. Harry whispered in Hermione's ear,

"I guess _that's_ the Black lake you mentioned?"

Hermione nodded as she peered into the distance, eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The giant introduced himself as he led them down slippery stones to the shores of the lake.

"My name's Rubeus Hagrid and I'm the Keeper of the Keys here at Hogwarts. Now, step into the boats, no more than four to a boat!"

Harry and Hermione were joined by two more people in their boat, a pudgy brown haired boy with a toad in his arms and a red headed girl. They nodded at each other as Harry and Hermione introduced themselves.

"Hello, my name's Harry Potter." "And I'm Hermione Granger, what are yours?"

The girl and the boy looked suitably surprised, but they soon composed themselves as they spoke,

"I'm Neville Longbottom." "Susan Bones, pleased to meet you all."

Just then, Hagrid's voice sounded across the water, "All set? All right. ONWARD!"

The boats responded to his command as they set off in a straight file, gliding smoothly across the black and stationary waters. After a few moments, there was a chorus of exclamations as the castle came into view. Harry squinted, his sharp eyes trying to make out every nuance and detail of what was going to be his home away from home for the next seven years.

Numerous turrets and spires rose behind sturdy ramparts as Hogwarts' many windows glowed a cheery orange and yellow, its many fires burning. The castle seemed to give off a warm, welcoming feeling which as Harry noted mentally, he could certainly get used to_._ The boats glided to a stop at an underground harbour near the school. They disembarked after which Hagrid led them to the sturdy front doors. They stood there in silence as Hagrid raised his fist and knocked.

Harry turned to Hermione as they waited and asked,

"So, nervous?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders as she replied, "Not really, now that I know that there are scores of people like me in here. Besides, I'm not alone am I?"

Harry looked at her, his eyes fixed on hers as he replied, "Not while I'm here".

Hermione had to fight back a blush.

**-End-**

* * *

**_Author's Notes:_**

_Thank you for the reviews, alerts and the favs. You people continue to surprise me, I must say. For a first timer, I think I'm doing all right. I wouldn't say no to more reviews though *_eye smiles*. _Really would like feedback on my version of the 'Journey' and Ronny's immaturity and your general thoughts. __On a serious note though, the next chapter may be delayed by a bit since I have my exams coming up. Bear with me people, and send all your love. It feels good..._

_Also, did no one find out where the name Ironfist and that nappies comment came from? I have sifting old stories for the same, and so far have no clue. I want to give the credit where it's due.. So help me out people!_

_Please Vote on my poll. It's there on my profile and open till Halloween comes up in my story. _

_A little hint. Ron's not in favour, from what the current stats indicate... _

_Sincerely, _

_Lust of Alucard._


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: Do not own Harry Potter or its associated franchises. All characters are property of J.K.R and Warner Bros and other concerned agencies.

* * *

Chapter 6 - The Sorting and First Impressions

_**Last time**_

_Harry turned to Hermione as they waited and asked,_

"_So, nervous?"_

_Hermione shrugged her shoulders as she replied, "Not really, now that I know that there are scores of people like me in here. Besides, I'm not alone am I?"_

_Harry looked at her, his eyes fixed on hers as he replied, "Not while I'm here"._

_Hermione had to fight back a blush._

* * *

It was the start of a new academic session at Hogwarts. The Great Hall looked magnificent and almost ethereal with its decorations and expectant school fraternity, all waiting in silence. They were waiting for the Sorting which was almost ritualistic as a rite of passage for newcomers into Hogwarts, so that they could be integrated into the school community. The Hall featured four long tables, one for each of the Houses of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin as well as a staff table, at which sat the professors of Hogwarts. The mass of people expectantly looked at the doors of the Great Hall, waiting for the first years.

_**Meanwhile, outside**_

The sturdy oak doors opened slowly as Hagrid hammered on them, revealing a lady in her mid-seventies or so. She had a stern profile and sharp features, which gave her a very strict appearance. Harry was immediately struck by how familiar she looked, as if he had already _experienced_ her magic before. No, he was _sure_ that he had felt her magic someplace before. He heard Hermione whisper in his ear,

"That is Professor McGonagall Harry, she is the Deputy Headmistress and is going to be our Transfiguration teacher."

Harry nodded while thinking, _that still doesn't explain why she felt so familiar._

Hagrid's voice brought him out of his trance, "Here are the firs' years Professor. All of them accounted for."

McGonagall asked, "There were no problems, I hope?"

"No ma'am."

Turning her attention from Hagrid, McGonagall focussed on the group of first years. They looked like your typical scared bunch of eleven year olds, except for a few. Almost immediately, her sharp eyes zeroed on someone who looked like a James Potter in miniature. The boy was staring at her in return. He looked healthy, was tall for his age, held himself with confidence and looked at ease with his surroundings. His green eyes were taking in all the details around him, including her. Next to him stood Miss Granger who as she remembered, was sure to turn out into a fabulous witch. She mentally smiled to herself. They reminded her so much of another particular pair who had walked these halls two decades prior, it was uncanny.

She returned her attention to the task at hand as she spoke.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress, the Head of Gryffindor and your Transfiguration teacher while you are at this place of learning. Hogwarts as some of you know, is considered to be the bastion of magic here in the British Isles. You are here for the sole purpose of learning and making something out of yourselves. With the opportunities that you are afforded here at Hogwarts, we expect that every batch of students that pass out of here are counted some of the best magicians in the world. You are the future of the magical world and therefore I expect that you conduct yourselves as such."

The group straightened themselves subconsciously at her words. Nodding to them, she continued,

"Behind these doors the school is waiting for you. In a few moments you will presented before the whole of the school fraternity for your sorting. Any house that you go into, be it Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Slytherin, you are expected to cherish the ideals of that house and make yourselves and the house proud. It will be your family away from family and home away from home when you are here. Now I suggest that you primp yourselves before we proceed inside for the ceremony."

They did as she suggested while she went inside to announce their arrival. Harry was looking at their fellow students and observing them when he heard a stifled gasp from Hermione. He looked at her, finding that her eyes were trained on a particular spot. His eyes followed hers and widened in surprise too. The other members of the group were also gaping.

Pearly white and shimmering, the ghosts of Hogwarts castle were passing through the chamber where Harry and his cohorts were stationed. They gave off an ethereal feeling, with their translucent bodies wavering like gossamer layers of silk. One of them, a ghost with a chubby face and a matching torso caught sight of them. He grinned widely and came near them, causing the less brave of their group to take a step or two back.

"Hello there! New students, I suppose?"

Harry and some of the others nodded cautiously.

"I'm the Fat Friar, the house ghost of Hufflepuff. Welcome to Hogwarts, and I hope to see you in my house."

Another ghost wearing tights and an ensemble with a ruffed collar spoke then, "we're getting late for the feast Friar, you can talk to them after they're sorted."

Turning to them, he added, "See you in Gryffindor, if you get sorted in there!"

The group then floated off through another wall, probably into the Great Hall.

When McGonagall returned, she filed them into a straight line as the doors to the interior opened. Pointy hats, numerous in number turned in their direction in unison as they marched down the aisle flanked by the House tables. The Great Hall had a pseudo ceiling which was enchanted to imitate the sky outside and it seamlessly blended in with the walls and columns which made up the Great Hall's sides. The Hall itself was illuminated by thousands of candles, floating in mid-air. They cast a soft glow on the ambience, making the Hall take on an appearance that was almost eldritch in nature.

_I take back my earlier words about magic being crazy. It may be crazy, but it is also magnificent by any definition. _Harry though as he gazed around in awe.

McGonagall stopped them roughly at the centre of the Hall, leaving them there as she moved towards the Hat which occupied a pride of place before the staff table, sitting on a stool clearly visible from any corner of the Great Hall. Harry looked at the nondescript object that was the centre of attention of everyone in the Hall.

The hat began to twitch and began to jerk. Almost as if waking from a long siesta it stretched and smacked its lips - a likeliness formed by the folds of the millennium old cloth - and began to chant.

_**From the Philosopher's Stone:**_

_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_  
_But don't judge on what you see,_  
_I'll eat myself if you can find_  
_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_  
_Your top hats sleek and tall,_  
_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_  
_The Sorting Hat can't see,_  
_So try me on and I will tell you_  
_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
_Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
_Where they are just and loyal,_  
_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
_if you've a ready mind,_  
_Where those of wit and learning,_  
_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
_You'll make your real friends,_  
_Those cunning folks use any means_  
_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
_And don't get in a flap!_  
_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Then it seemed to slump in place, once more silent and not at all looking like a hat that _sang a rhyme_ in front of a seven hundred strong crowd. McGonagall's voice sounded, successfully drawing the attention of the first-years-to-be who had been stunned silent by the singing hat.

"When I call out your names, you are to come and sit on the stool and wear the hat. It will then call out the house you will be assigned to. You are then to go and take a place at your respective house table. Do you follow me?"

Harry and the others nodded. McGonagall then began to call names one by one, as the respective people went to the stool and were sorted.

"Abbot, Hannah"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Bones, Susan"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Boot, Terry"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Brown, Lavender"

"Gryffindor!"

One by one the names were called, while Harry took a moment to observe the people in the hall. He started with the house tables. From what he saw, Gryffindor looked welcoming, while being loud and boisterous. Ravenclaw looked serious and studious, after all they were the house of learning. Hufflepuff was the most tolerant, all smiles and exuded warmth. Slytherin looked calculating and _haughty_, no other word for it. He mentally shivered, he would not have a moment's worth of peace if he went there.

Nope, Gryffindor it was.

His eyes wandered to the staff table, and he had to keep himself from gasping aloud.

Bright blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles exuded warmth as the owner gazed at Harry. He had hair that was a bright silvery white and long, his beard almost reaching his stomach. Dressed in vivid purple robes and a matching top hat, the man's demeanour gave off the impression of a venerable grandfather. But his eyes spoke of a wisdom and intellect that came from being one of the wizarding world's most powerful and respected figures for close to a century. To Harry, it was almost like he was being x-rayed.

There, in the middle of the table was the old man that he had seen often in his childhood, wandering around in Little Whinging. This had to Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts and the mysterious stalker from his earlier years.

Harry was just recovering from his surprise as Hermione's name was called.

"Granger, Hermione"

Hermione walked with purpose to the stool where the hat was placed. Putting it on her head, she sat down on the stool. There was only darkness under the hat, she had no clue about what to expect. Suddenly she heard a gruff voice in her head. It startled her when the hat spoke,

"A very sharp brain you've got there Miss Granger."

"Who's this?"

"It's me Miss Granger, the Sorting Hat" "

"Why are you here in my mind?"

"How else do you think I sort people? I go pottering about in their minds, learning their desires, their ambitions, their character and their core personalities. That's how I know where to sort them."

Hermione waited anxiously as the hat continued its disclosure.

"As for you, you have two clear choices. Rowena would be privileged to have you in her house, Miss Granger. Your brains would give her a run for her money."

She coloured a bit at that. The Sorting Hat, possibly the only sentient relic from the Founder's Era was comparing Rowena Ravenclaw to her in a favourable light!

"However, there is also a hidden, _buried_ confidence in you, a zeal to see the right things done, a longing for fairness. There is no question about it, Rowena and Godric would pay with their right hands for you."

The hat paused for a moment, then continued.

"It's your choice Miss Granger."

"Really? You're giving me a choice?"

"Of course. There is no clear advice I can give you. You would do well in either of the houses."

There was no hesitation from her, "I would like to go into Gryffindor."

She heard the Hat call it out to the hall and walked off to the Gryffindor table amidst some polite applause, giving a warm smile to Harry on her way.

Daphne Greengrass was sorted into Slytherin after her. Sometime later, Neville was sorted into Gryffindor, seemingly after a bit of a debate with the Sorting Hat. A Lily Moon went into Slytherin, and Morag McDougal was sorted into Ravenclaw. Malfoy was sent into Slytherin, the hat seemingly not wanting to sit on his gelled head. Harry held in a snicker. A pair of twin sisters were spilt amongst Gryffindor and Ravenclaw and then,

"Potter, Harry"

The Hall, which had been full of chatter and noise fell abruptly silent. Almost everyone was training their heads in an attempt to look at him. Harry felt like a freak show as he took slow, measured strides towards the Sorting Hat. Given that he was tall for his age and fit, and his confidence in the Hogwarts robes combined with the Potter looks meant that he was attracting a lot of attention from the Hogwarts population, particularly from the female quarters.

Not all attention was positive though.

Draco Malfoy looked as if somebody had bludgeoned him in a particularly sensitive spot. His face gone red and splotchy with anger. He was so overcome that he could only sprout a few words.

"Made a fool… me…Malfoy ….father…..how dare he…disgusting Weasley…." People were shying away from him, he looked a bit insane. Draco Abraxas Malfoy was not a happy ferret.

Ronald Bilius Weasley had no one to blame but his own jealousy, which was bubbling like magma at the moment. Potter only had his name called, and within five minutes of entering Hogwarts people were already sucking up to him! He had hoped to get close to Potter and may be share a bit of that fame, but no! He had to make friends with that bookworm Granger, who was currently smiling away at him. And what did Ron get? A scolding, which was so not fair. He kept whining to himself.

In midst of all these, two people on the staff table were also eyeing Harry with less than pleased expressions. One of these was Severus Snape and the other, Quirinus Quirrell.

Quirrell, or rather Voldemort had a neutral expression on his face, which disguised the unnatural hatred and hunger for revenge that was running through his mind at the moment. His enemy, his nemesis for eleven years was in front him. This whelp, this offspring of a _mudblood_ had dared to curse him into a painful existence that had tormented him for almost ten years. No matter, he would get his retribution, and soon.

Snape was in two minds. On one hand, Potter looked every bit the spoiled prince that Snape had expected him to be. He was a miniature of James Potter. Head held high with arrogance - _that is, confidence mistaken for arrogance_ - the boy was strutting about as if already owned the place. On the other hand, he had the same eyes as the only woman that Snape had ever loved, shining out of his face. It was not possible for him look into those eyes and maintain his hateful demeanour. So yeah, a conflict was raging in his mind. His opinion of the boy would have to wait.

Unmindful of all this, Harry stepped up to the stool to be sorted. He sat down on the stool and put the hat over his head. A voice sounded in his head.

"A yet to be first year with Occlumency shields? Wandless magic? My my, today's generation is truly gifted."

Harry was as first startled from the hat's voice but kept his composure.

"And what's this? Godric's heir as well? It's all ingrained here, cunning, loyalty, valour, intellect and a healthy dose of pride. You're a boy of many talents Mr Potter. So where shall I put you?"

"So you're the Sorting Hat."

"Yes Mr Potter. Now where would you like to be sorted?"

"As you said, I'm Gryffindor's Heir and my family has been in Gryffindor for ages. There's only one logical choice, I believe."

"Indeed. GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word was shouted to the Hall at large. Harry took the hat off and walked to the Gryffindor table. Hermione had an empty seat next to her and he sat down, smiling at her. They watched the remaining people get sorted, groaning when Ronald Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor. They had hoped that luck might side with them just a bit, but it wasn't to be. Well they would have to judge the guy and see where it led them to in the next few weeks.

Finally, Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin and Professor McGonagall took the hat away.

The hall fell silent as Dumbledore got up to speak. Harry got to see for himself the kind of respect the old wizard commanded. Even his colleagues were giving him their full attention. Neatly tucking his overflowing beard into his belt, he began.

"Good evening to everyone present here. I am Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster here at Hogwarts and I wish a hearty welcome to all our new students. I hope that you all find a home here, as many of us have done through the years."

"Now that the sorting is finished, there are a few points that I want to give your attention to. Firstly, classes start day after tomorrow. We wish for you to get used to the hallways and the maze that is the school in general before you start attending classes. The Head Boy and Girl along with the Prefects are asked to see that the younger students and our first years are not experiencing any kind of discomfort or problems. If there are any, you are instructed to solve them. If it is not a matter that you cannot handle by yourself, please ask your Head of House for help."

He took a moment to survey the hall with sharp eyes before continuing.

"I would like to introduce our teachers and staff to the new members of our school. The respective Heads are" Dumbledore gestured with his arms, "Professor Minerva McGonagall for Gryffindor and our Transfiguration Mistress."

McGonagall raised a hand.

"Professor Filius Flitwick for Ravenclaw and Charms Master."

A tiny man with some goblin like features in him smiled widely at them all.

"Professor Pomona Sprout for Hufflepuff and our Herbology expert."

A kindly faced witch raised her hand and waved.

"And finally, Professor Severus Snape for Slytherin and our Potions Master."

A surly looking man with greasy hair and a sour expression gave a curt nod. Dumbledore nodded at all of them before continuing.

"I would also like to take this opportunity to introduce the other staff members. Professor Quirinus Quirrell is our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He has recently returned from his travels in the Dark Forest in Romania to Britain and hence will be enlightening you all with his experience."

A nervous young man in a turban waved his hand.

"Professor Aurora Sinistra, our Astronomy teacher and Professor Septima Vector, our Arithmancy teacher.."

Two pretty young women waved to the students.

"Rolanda Hooch, our Quidditch and flying coach and erstwhile member of the Holyhead Harpies team."

A severe looking woman with sharp eyes the colour of burnt amber nodded.

"Professor Bathsheda Babbling, our Ancient Runes professor and Charity Burbage, our Muggle Studies professors."

The two remaining women on the far side of the table waved.

"Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures professor and who I suspect, may soon be retiring."

A wizened old man, who looked as though he could fall apart any moment turned an amused eye upon Dumbledore as he raised a hand slowly.

"Rubeus Hagrid, our groundsman and the Keeper of the Keys, who I'm sure all of you have met."

Hagrid, who had taken his seat at the table by now, waved at the hall.

"And finally, Argus Filch, our caretaker and who's notices you would do well to read."

A grumpy old man snarled at the laughter from the older years.

Dumbledore continued, "There are also Madam Pomfrey, our medwitch, Irma Pince, our librarian and Professor Trelawney, our Divination Professor who were not able to attend the feast due to various reasons. I'm sure you all will come across them at one point in your academic career. Now for some notices and rules that I wish you all to be made aware of. Nobody is allowed to go into the Forbidden Forest at any point of time. All sections of the school out of bounds to the students will be warded accordingly. Anybody trying to trespass will be punished; house points will be taken or detentions assigned. If the offence is of a more severe nature, the punishment will be accordingly less lenient. Finally, notices regarding quidditch, school clubs, banned items and other school activities will be posted on the house notice boards. All the students will be getting a visit from your respective Heads of House later after the feast to be briefed on additional details. I expect all rules to be adhered to."

"Now, let the Welcoming Feast Commence!" He spread his hands as if encompassing the hall before sitting down. With his gesture, the house tables were filled with all kinds of food spanning across various cuisines. It was a feast fit for a king.

Harry took a bowl of chicken soup, a side of sticky sweet bacon and started eating. He looked at Hermione, she had an excited look on her face as she started loading up her plate. He asked her,

"So, what do you think of Hogwarts?"

She was almost squealing when she replied, "Oh Harry, this is all so wonderful! The castle is beautiful, we get to learn all these magics and learn under the best teachers in the subject! I can't wait."

Harry nodded as he replied, "Yes, Flitwick and McGonagall are considered to be the best among masters of Charms and Transfiguration throughout Europe. Snape is the youngest Potions master in history, did you know that?"

She shook her head replying, "No, I didn't. How did you know?"

"I picked up a few additional manuals on the core subjects while doing my shopping. They detailed all common practices, underlying concepts and introductions to the subjects. Our professors were also listed in there." He replied while swallowing a spoonful of soup, which was delicious by the way.

Hermione's face had a scrunched up look and she looked irritated with herself. "That was very wise of you Harry. Those books are sure to be of help to people like us with no prior knowledge of magic. Now that I think of it, I should have done the same."

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder, making her start at the contact. "It's not that big an issue Hermione, you can borrow mine if needed. Though I recommend that you buy the Potions manual, it has a lot of introductory information that is almost prerequisite for us. You can owl order it."

Hermione nodded, going back to her food.

Harry looked at the staff table. Dumbledore and McGonagall were conversing away while Flitwick was eating, his face barely reaching the table. Harry had to hold back a smirk at that. His eyes shifted to the far end of the table, where Hagrid was drinking something out of a flask. He caught Harry's eye and waved at him. Harry waved back. His attention was diverted to the person next to him who happened to look in his direction at the same time.

Snape was looking at students around the hall, mentally judging of how much of a headache they would cause in his classes. His eyes went to the Gryffindor table as Harry was looking at the staff table. He almost lost his composure at that emerald green gaze and he quickly broke eye contact, eating with a neutral expression.

Harry was puzzled as his behaviour. After all, why would a teacher break eye contact in a hurry, that to with a student? Mentally dismissing it as nothing important, his eyes next settled on Quirrell. The man sure cut a very strange picture with a heavy turban, a nervous air around him and his eyes continually darting here and there. Harry inwardly sighed, if a teacher that jumpy was teaching them defence, he did not have high hopes for that subject.

At that moment a curious sensation shot through his scar, almost as if something tiny was burrowing through it. It was accompanied by a muted sensation of pain. Harry's eyes widened in panic and his hands shot to his forehead as he tried to block it out, he recognised the signs of a legilimency attack. He looked at the staff table, eye contact was not required for a long ranged probe and his eyes had been trained on the staff table at the time. No one was looking at him, or had a wand raised in his direction. Snape was in conversation with Dumbledore and McGonagall with Flitwick and Hagrid. Quirrell's back was turned towards him and the rest of the teachers were absorbed in their food or a book. As soon as his head was trained in that direction, the pain had ceased.

It seemed Hermione had noticed this as she asked, "What happened Harry? Are you in pain or something?"

He tried to disguise his reaction as he replied, "No, it's nothing. I was just brushing my hair back and pulled a strand by mistake. My bad."

She laughed, "May be you should just cut it off." She tugged at a lock of her own bushy hair, "I didn't think anybody had hair as unmanageable as mine. It seems I was wrong."

Harry smiled a little as he looked around warily since it was also possible to mentally attack somebody by means of a vocalized Legilimency spell. He didn't think that anybody would take the risk in a crowded environment like this, forced legilimency was illegal after all. He took a few deep breaths as his panic subsided. He would need to keep his guard up in the future.

He turned his attention back to Hermione, only to see that she had stopped eating and had a revolted expression on her face. She had put her fork down and was looking at a particular direction. Neville who was sitting across them also was looking in that direction. His eyes followed theirs, what he saw nearly turned his stomach as well.

Ron Weasley was stuffing his face, his plate overflowing with food and crumbs all over the table and his uniform. There was a smearing of mashed potatoes and other assorted bits of food on his chin. His fork and knives lay forgotten. People who had noticed around him were shying away in disgust. It looked as if he had not eaten for an eternity and Harry was forcibly reminded of Dudley. He turned his attention back to his plate lest he loose his appetite and did the same for Hermione.

"Ignore him Hermione, the guy is enough to put you of food forever."

She nodded, "Honestly Harry, if this is what you and I have to put up with, I'm not sure that getting into Gryffindor was the best idea."

Neville who had been quiet until now, suddenly spoke up. "You're forgetting something Hermione, I and Harry have to share a dormitory with the slob."

Hermione winced in sympathy and Harry quirked an eyebrow as he drawled, "Thanks Neville, for reminding me of that little titbit of information. It seems that my memory needed a bit of jogging." You could clearly hear the sarcasm in every syllable.

Neville was smirking as he replied, "Thank you Harry. We need to stick together against the coming storm, you see."

By this time, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas who were sitting nearby had heard the conversation and were looking at each other in horror. Meanwhile, poor Ron Weasley had no clue of his already dubious reputation as he continued to satiate his hunger and greed with the collection of desserts that had appeared, unmindful of the unwilling audience that he had gathered.

Harry served himself a treacle tart and some vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce. He looked at Hermione, she had the same conflicted look on her face as she had on the train while she debated with herself on the least harmful of the array of confections on the table. Harry laughed as he spoke,

"Honestly Hermione, magical healing is very different to dentistry. Not to demean your parents, but cavities do not exist in the magical world since the healers can wipe them out with a spell or a potion. You can indulge all you want."

Hermione looked at him dubiously, before taking a bite of chocolate brownie. Harry smirked at her as she demolished her portion, before reaching for more. He then turned back to his own treacle tart when suddenly, the ghost that had interrupted the Fat Friar rose out of the table, or rather, his head rose with the rest of his body following.

The apparition had a pompous look on his face as he spoke, "Sorry that I didn't introduce myself back there. I am Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, resident ghost of Gryffindor and dead as of fourteen hundred and ninety two. Now, Gryffindors are known to be chivalrous and brave. I expect you to be the same."

He would have said more, but Ron cut across him, "You're Nearly Headless Nick, aren't you?"

Nicholas looked displeased with Ron as he replied with a sniff, "Yes, I have been also called by that less than respectful name, but I would prefer if you called me Sir Nicholas. Now as I was saying -"

He was once again interrupted, this time by Hermione who asked, "Nearly Headless? What does that even mean?"

Nick looked even more displeased as he set his features into a scowl and pulled at his hair, letting his entire head swing down by means of the bit of sinew and muscle that served as a hinge of sorts. He looked pleased at their appropriate reactions of horror and popped his head back into place, muttering to himself,

"Dratted executioner, couldn't even cut me through cleanly. Merlin knows what he had been doing with his blade, serving himself bread, perhaps." He continued in the same vein by which, all the people listening to him lost their interest and had gone back to their food. Only Harry noticed the unhappy expression on the ghost's face and spoke up in a low tone.

"Excuse me Nick, may I ask why you are so unhappy?"

Nicholas had a morose look as he replied, "Alas young Potter, due to my partially cut neck I am somewhat of an anomaly in ghost circles. Outside Hogwarts, I am an outcast among my own kind."

Harry spoke up then, "So what if you are nearly headless, that does not make you an anomaly, it just makes you different! You are unique, I don't think that is a bad thing. And please call me Harry."

Nick was somewhat appeased and his scowl had lessened. "Thank you Harry, I shall remember that. I shouldn't keep you from your food, so please enjoy." After that he went about his way, leaving Harry to finish his meal.

After everyone had been sated and the plates had been cleared away, Dumbledore stood up once again.

"That was a most magnificent feast. I hope that everyone has had their fill and are ready for bed."

The general mood in the hall was of contentment, people were already yawning.

Dumbledore was well aware as he dismissed them without further ado. "All right then, good night to all of you, and might I remind everyone here that the Heads of House will talk to you tomorrow."

People nodded and began moving and the general noise level rose in the Hall. A tall, red haired boy with a snooty expression on his face was calling the Gryffindor first years to gather around. He had a prefect badge on his robes.

"All right, all Gryffindor first years to me! I am Percy Weasley, your fifth year Gryffindor prefect. If you will all follow me, we shall make our way to the Gryffindor tower."

With his piece said, he turned away with a swish of robes and made his way towards the magnificent Entrance Hall with its opulent white marble staircase and the balustrade. They all followed Percy's lead, coming across several staircases and hallways. The place was a veritable maze. Staircases moved, everywhere looked the same, portraits talked and Harry and the others even caught sight of some ghosts flitting through the walls. Hogwarts was well deserving of its place as Magical Britain's epicentre, it was so enchanting.

Harry's senses had trouble adjusting, and he had subconsciously eased up on his mage sight so as to not get blinded by the intensity of ambient magic.

Finally, after seven floors worth of stairs, suits of armour and a particularly annoying poltergeist, Percy and Harry's group came to a stop in front of a painting of a somewhat overweight lady in a pink dress. She looked down at the assembled group and asked, "Password Please?"

Percy turned to the first year group and said, "This is the Fat Lady, and she's the guardian for the Gryffindor quarters. She only grants entrance if you speak the password when she asks for it. Never reveal the password to people of other houses, it is strictly frowned upon."

Turning to the portrait he said, "Caput Draconis."

The portrait swung open on its own hinge, revealing the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. They all trudged inside, already tired and weary. The Gryffindor common room was obviously based in one of the really large towers of the castle's periphery. It was decorated in house colours and a large fire blazed away, filling the room with light and warmth. Squishy sofas and chairs were spread here and there, and they all looked comfortable. _I could definitely get used to this, _Harry thought.

Percy spoke, "Make sure you remember the password, it will remain so until the guardian decides to reset it. Also remember, Professor McGonagall will be here to speak with you all at ten in the morning. Make sure you all awake and present."

They all nodded. He gestured with his hands at two staircases, "The one on the left leads to the girls' dormitory and the right one to the boys. Good night to all of you."

He walked off after that, leaving the group to their own devices. Harry turned to Hermione whose eyes were drooping and asked, "Feeling sleepy?"

She nodded, "I'm a bit fatigued Harry. After that long train ride and all that food, I need to sleep."

Harry smiled, "Then go up and rest. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night."

Hermione grinned as well and after a moment of indecision, surprised Harry with a warm hug. She then wished him a good night and went up the stairs, smiling to herself the whole way. Harry stood there surprised and cracked a grin himself. Trudging up the stairs, he arrived at his dormitory and was greeted with a cosy, large room and that had five four poster beds. Each of the beds had its own accompanying dresser and wardrobe. A door led to the shared toilet and bathroom. A further inspection showed that he was in one of the highest towers of the castle. Four beds each had a trunk at their feet. He went to the only bed that didn't, took out his shrunken trunk and expanded it with a thought, setting it down at the foot of his bed.

No long after that, the door behind him opened and in trooped his other four dorm mates.

Apart from Neville and Ron, there was sandy haired boy and a tall, brown skinned boy, who looked like the tallest of the lot. Harry walked forward and put his hand out,

"Hello there, I'm Harry Potter. I have already met Neville and Ronald here, but I don't know your names."

The dark skinned boy smiled and shook his hand, "I'm Dean Thomas. Nice to meet you mate."

"I'm Seamus Finnegan. Pleased to meet you too."

Harry grinned as he shook Seamus' hands. "I've got the feeling that we shall get together very well."

They all smiled, except Ron that is, who had a sour expression on his face. He just sulked and went to the toilet, with a change of night clothes in his hands.

"Whatever happened to him?" asked Dean.

"We just had a pretty intense introduction on the train, apparently Weasley is displeased with me. Either that, or his stomach finally realised it has a limit and he went in to make room for tomorrow's breakfast." Harry answered with a smirk.

The other guys wrinkled their noses and chuckled. Neville spoke, "I don't know about you guys, but I'm pretty drained. See you in the morning."

They all nodded in agreement as Ronald came back from his sojourn and promptly got into his bed, pulling his hangings shut behind him. Harry shook his head with a chuckle as he went into the bathroom. He changed into his nightwear and brushed his teeth; he couldn't wait till learnt dental charms. He then chuckled, Hermione would not be chuffed at that. He then shook his head at the random thought as he made his way back to the bed.

Wishing his fellow dorm mates a good night, he pulled the bed hangings closed and settled into a meditative position, It was his nightly ritual to clear his mind of daily clutter, as was directed by his Occlumency book. He easily slipped into a peaceful trance, where he categorized his thoughts and reviewed his actions or the day. After fifteen minutes of this and building his mental shields, he sighed and lay down between his supremely comfortable sheets, yawning. He could already hear Ronald's burgeoning snores. Smirking, he closed his eyes and drifted off to last thoughts were of his parents, Dumbledore, McGonagall and Hermione all wrapped into an indistinguishable strand of memory.

-End-

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

**_- Thank you all for the reviews, alerts and the favourites._**

**_- The exams killed my muse, I'm considering a horcrux for it, so not to worry!_**

**_- So, a bit of Ron Bashing with comic undertones, nothing excessive. That, is also temporary…_**

**_- Please read and review. Every bit of feedback is crucial and enlightening. So please, don't skimp out on it._**

**_- Additionally, Please Vote on my poll. It's there on my profile and open till Halloween comes up in my story._**

**_- A shout to Old Crow and Robst, two of the bigwigs of the HP fandom. I solemnly swear that Ironfist and 'the nappies comment' have been taken from their stories._**

_Sincerely, _

_Lust of Alucard._

* * *

_Regarding Reviews:_

_So many meaningful reviews... the constructive criticism I got was at its best._

_To address a few queries,_

_To DivineDeity: A humongous review to be sure, it seemed like a chapter in itself! And a lot of good points raised. I'll be keeping them in mind. The narrative will be as formal as ever..that is my writing style, but I'll try to tone down the dialogue to make it sound more natural._

_To Joe Lawyer: The review said and I quote, "but if Harry is going to be Voldemort's equal, he's going to need a cult of personality, **a virtual harem of women clamoring to be in his circle **and bask in his charisma." _

_The bold parts I don't get. Why a harem? If you're comparing him to Voldy's Inner Circle, surely the Death Eaters don't constitute a harem, of all things! Please elaborate... Looking Forward to it._

_Also, regarding the 'non magical' issue, I get your point, Harry will be corrected, he's not perfect after all. Otherwise, thank you for your time._

___To those who wanted me to experiment: Keeping in mind that this is my first story, I don't want to branch off by experimenting a lot. This should be a story that people can relate themselves to, and a story that doesn't get lost in itself. Oh there'll be twists and turns and departure from canon, but how much can you experiment when all you're doing is introducing the characters?_

___And regarding the use of parentheses:____Sorry!_

___Regarding Ron Bashing:____ There won't much be much of it, although I may take advantage of him in certain comic scenes. All that you saw was an outlet for my rants.. hehe._

___That said, thank you all, once again for all the feedback, perhaps you can get the counter to go crazy this time? *greed and anticipation shining in my eyes*_

___Sincerely,_

___Lust Of Alucard_

___Additional notes: Fixed the Intro by Dumbles in the update. Thanks for the reviews._


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: Do not own Harry Potter or its associated franchises. All characters are property of J.K.R and Warner Bros and other concerned agencies.

But that doesn't mean that it's fair!

*Sniffles and looks up with big, watery puppy dog eyes and a cute pout*

Ok, done playing around, onward with the story. Literary license has been used to its capacity. Really, it's bursting at the seams. Read on and you'll understand.

* * *

_**Last time**_

_He could already hear Ronald's burgeoning snores. Smirking, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. His last thoughts were of his parents, Dumbledore, McGonagall and Hermione all wrapped into an indistinguishable strand of memory._

Chapter 7 – Reactions, Retrospections and Confrontations

_10 AM, September 2__nd__, Gryffindor Common Room._

Minerva McGonagall was currently looking at the small group of first years in front of her. Gryffindor had received eight students this year, five boys and three girls. They were looking expectantly at her, waiting for her to speak.

"As all of you know, I'm Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor and am here to speak to you in detail about some things that all of you should know, now that you are a member of Hogwarts."

She surveyed them through stern eyes before continuing.

"Firstly, the points system and the house cup. The system is based on two factors, your performance, and the fairness of the teachers. The more points you earn, the better the chance of Gryffindor winning the house cup. This is a fierce competition that occurs every year and is a matter of personal pride for both the students of this house, namely you, and the head of the house, namely me. Any questions?"

Hermione put her hand up, McGonagall nodded to her.

"How do we earn these points professor?"

McGonagall took a moment before she answered, "The most common source is to answer questions in the class. Also, if you perform well in the class and your assignments are of a high standard, you're bound to earn more points for your house. Secondly, the quidditch tournament is also a major source of points, and the weightage given to academics and quidditch is almost equal."

This time, she was interrupted by Harry, who had also raised his hand. She allowed him the question.

"What kinds of assignments, professor?"

"It's mainly theoretical work Mr Potter. You will be given essays to write where the length will be specified by the respective professor. As you move on to more advanced magics, you will also be asked to practice spells and incantations as a form of homework. Does that answer your question?"

Harry responded with a nod, apparently satisfied.

"Now regarding a different topic. You will soon find out that people here tend to classify others based on their house. You will be expected to act according your house. Do you follow me? "

Neville put his hand up. Upon McGonagall's questioning glance, he asked,

"How _are_ we supposed to act Professor?"

McGonagall gave a tiny sigh, before replying,

"As you know, Gryffindor House has been primarily seen as the house of brave. I admit that is so, because many of the students passing out from here in the last few years have gone for jobs that demand some measure of valour, such as the Auror academy and for jobs in the DMLE which is the British ministry's Law Enforcement arm, while others have gone for jobs like curse breaking and professional duelling. However, this also means that we have garnered a reputation of being fools, and generally bull headed. This has to stop."

She took a deep breath before continuing.

"What I want to stress here is that even if your bravery is why you were sorted into this house, there is no reason why you cannot cultivate other qualities, such as studiousness and intelligence. If you do rush into reckless actions without common sense, you may well end up losing points and earning detentions. That will be the least of your worries though, because after that, you will have to face me."

Harry nodded, there was no sense in rushing headlong into situations without any sort of plan. McGonagall looked at each of them in eye as she spoke.

"Remember that your actions reflect the image of the house outside this common room. Any sort of bullying, picking fights both inside the house and outside, especially against Slytherin who have always been our greatest rivals will result in harsh punishments, especially from me."

She looked at them, most of them looked appropriately cowed. On the other hand, Ron did not look happy. Her features took a softer cast before she continued,

"But that does not mean that I will also tolerate the bullying of any of my Gryffindors, whatever the source may be. I will ask you to report any such incident to me. If there is a legitimate issue, I will deal with it accordingly. Keep in mind though, that this should not be abused." At this, Ron looked a little less angry.

She then waved her wand and a sheaf of parchment appeared. She handed one to each of them.

"These are your time tables. Classes will be held five days a week. Missing them without any reason will again, lead to a loss of house points and a mark on your personal records, which are maintained for each and every student. Remember, you're parents and guardians have paid a substantial sum of money for you to come here, and you're expected to justify that to the best of your abilities."

She stood up from her seat while saying, "That was all I had to say. You're dismissed."

As all of them set off, she called Harry back, "Except you Potter. Stay behind for a minute."

Harry nodded, while Hermione gave him a worried look. McGonagall caught it and smiled at her.

"Don't worry Miss Granger, he's not in trouble. You can go on." Harry gave her a look of assurance after which Hermione left.

He turned to McGonagall and looked at her expectantly, upon which she spoke.

"Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you after lunch. I shall be there in the Entrance Hall after lunch, from where I shall be leading you to his office. Do you have any questions?"

Harry thought for a moment, pondering whether his query would not be misconstrued as inappropriate, before deciding to go forward with it anyway.

"Yes Professor, I do have a question. It's not related to school though."

McGonagall looked at him for a moment, before nodding. Harry spoke.

"Professor, when I met you at the Entrance Hall last night, you felt familiar, almost as if I had seen you somewhere. How could that be possible?"

Minerva McGonagall was, for once in her life at a loss for words. Except for that fateful night so many years ago, she had only ever met Harry in her Kneazle form while following him around, which was as inconspicuous as it could be. Then why did he ask her such a question?

"How so, Mr Potter?"

"It was like I recognised your magic, Professor. Have you ever been to Surrey?"

McGonagall was struck dumb. Harry Potter could recognise magical signatures! That, was unexpected. She asked him a question of her own.

"Did you recognise anyone else, Harry?"

Harry noted her use of his name, while debating with himself. Eventually, he nodded.

"I recognised Professor Dumbledore too, from when I was younger. He would often be around when I was younger. Looks like I'll have a few questions to ask him too."

McGonagall gave him a smile, while replying,

"Don't worry Harry, your questions shall be answered when we're at Professor Dumbledore's office. Just be ready after lunch."

Harry nodded. She gave him a smile and left through the portrait hole and he sat on the sofa, thinking about what Dumbledore wanted to talk to him.

* * *

_11 AM, September 2__nd__, Office of the Headmaster, Hogwarts._

The office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts orHeadmistress, as was applicable, was a beautiful room. Full of magical artefacts, books and all kinds of unusual stuff, the circular chamber was a treasure trove for the quintessential explorer. Portraits of the past persons to have held the exalted position of the Head of Hogwarts hung on the walls of the room. Perhaps, the purpose was to lend their expertise and counsel both to whoever occupied the position.

The person currently sitting on that chair could however, work without their advice on his worst day. He was almost twelve decades old and had an experience of over eighty years of leading the magical world. He was also recognised as one of the most powerful sorcerers in the magical world, globally. The wisdom resulting from having lived through two wizarding wars and personally having ended one shone clearly in those bright blue eyes.

And he was currently stroking his phoenix with one hand and sucking away at a lemon sherbet held in the other.

Albus Dumbledore was not a man to be surprised easily. Anyone who had personally met the man before could attest to that. He had seen so many things and been in so many positions throughout his life that he was rarely caught off guard. He was currently pondering about a new student who was the offspring to two very good and late friends of his and had managed to startle him. Yes, very much so actually.

Before him, on his ornate desk lay a copy of the Daily Prophet that was more than a month old. In fact, it was dated precisely two days after the Hogwarts letters went out to the new students. The front page of the newspaper was dominated by a green eyed, raven haired boy that stood in front of the entrance to the Eeylops Owl Emporium, smiling at the beautiful snowy owl that was perched on his shoulder. The article that followed was no less sensational.

_**BOY WHO LIVED CAPTURES MINDS AND HEARTS**_

_**Special Report by Jimmy McCallagher**_

_**Daily Prophet Correspondent**_

_Yesterday afternoon, the denizens of the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley were treated to an absolute surprise when the Boy Who Lived walked in. The unassuming young boy with black hair and green eyes would not have even been recognized as such if he had not stopped for a moment at the bar in the Leaky Cauldron. The people of magical Britain will remember that Harry Potter has been out of the public eye after that horrific Halloween night eleven years ago. To see him suddenly appear out of the blue was unexpected and to some, an eye opening experience. _

_This reporter was fortunate enough to be present on the scene, getting an early lunch. Mr Potter was apparently on his way to Diagon Alley to do his Hogwarts shopping and to conduct some personal business at Gringotts. However, as soon as he asked Tom, the old barkeep directions to the Alley, the crowd at the Cauldron recognised and swarmed him. For someone who is one of the most recognised names of our world at a tender age of eleven, most would expect the boy to have a swelled head and be boastful, as adolescents at that age tend to be._

_However this reporter and the crowd at the scene got a pleasant surprise and a rude wakeup call all in one. Mr Potter was both confident and self-effacing, which was not expected. And what he said in response to the crowd's adulation will shock the wizarding world. He said and I quote,_

"**Thank you for this overwhelming reception. I never thought I would receive such love and adoration when I first entered the magical world for my Hogwarts shopping. My humble thanks once again. I'm just a boy of eleven, not even a student yet on a shopping trip for Hogwarts. I thought I was ordinary, but here I find myself a celebrity at the age of eleven. All for surviving an attack which took my parents' lives, leaving me an orphan. And here I see people celebrating that."**

"**Besides, you all seem to forget the fact that I was only about a year in age then. What was I supposed to do, blast '**_**He Who Must Not Be Named**_**' with a pair of soiled nappies? If you want to praise anyone, praise my mother and father. They were the ones '**_**He Who Must Not Be Named**_**' faced last before he perished. They are the ones who deserve all the tributes you people seem pretty happy to be showering me with."**

_He walked off after that particularly sharp reminder of that day. And in that rousing speech, he used the Dark Lord's name twice, which this newspaper refuses to print ever since said Dark Lord killed twenty seven of our staff, fifteen years ago in retaliation for doing so. _

_People may argue about his impertinence, but the reporter would like to mention the fact that what he pointed out are facts. We do seem to thank him for getting orphaned. Mr Potter did not mean to hurt the sentiments of the people of Magical Britain, he simply stated what he was right. The credit should go where it is due. _

_And I don't think we left a good first impression. _

_This reporter followed Mr Potter at a respectable distance after that episode. He spent three hours at Gringotts, conducting business of a personal nature. The correspondent would like to remind the readers of this article that the Potter family is an Ancient and Noble clan and Mr Potter is its sole surviving heir. There are also rumours of the Potters being the sole descendants of Gryffindor, which are not confirmed. _

_We couldn't get any details about the goings-on at Gringotts, since the security goblins seemed keen on gutting us unceremoniously and all we got from the goblin spokesperson was a terse _'no comments'_. _

_However we did get snippets of information about his businesses at various shops around the alley. The shopkeepers generally reported that Mr Potter was very polite and kept refusing discounts which were offered to him. Madam Malkin from 'Malkin's Robes for All Occasions' mentioned that he seemed very charming and down to earth. "_**Definitely not what I expected**",_ she said._

_At the Eeylops Owl Emporium, this reporter received a very startling and somewhat _sensational _piece of news. My dear readers, the owl you see on Mr Potter's shoulder is not just any post owl, but his familiar. Experts will argue that a familiar bond takes months, sometime years to build and consolidate. However the owner of the emporium, Mr David Eeylop confirmed it for us. He had sold the beautiful snowy to Mr Potter himself. He said and once again I quote,_

"**It was beautiful. One moment he was opening her cage and the next, she was perched on his arm, staring into his eyes and there was this whitish glow around both of them. Mr Potter was himself not aware of what had happened, and I had to explain it to him. He happily accepted the explanation, paid his dues and went about his way."**

_My readers, I would like to remind you that familiar bonds are very rare and a connection of this nature usually signifies the markings of a powerful wizard or witch. The most famous examples in recent memory are that of Albus Dumbledore and his phoenix, Fawkes and the Dark Lord and his serpent, Nagini. Professor Dumbledore's bond was formed when he was almost forty, just after he had defeated Grindelwald. But in Mr Potter's case, he is only eleven and the bond took but a moment to form. What this means, we leave the experts and our readers to speculate upon. _

_For now, I would like to take this opportunity to honour Mr Potter's parents James and Lily Potter. We do them a great disservice by not recognising their contributions to the war. I would also like the magical community to take up this thought and reflect upon it._

_To Mr Potter, if he is reading this, I say Thank You and Welcome Back._

_Jimmy McCallagher_

_Daily Prophet Correspondent_

_**For Details about the Potter Family, see Page 9.**_

_**For Details about Albus Dumbledore and his war against the Dark Lord, see Page 5. **_

_**For speculations and theories about Mr Potter, see page 3.**_

_**For expert opinion on familiar bonds, see page 10.**_

When he had first read the article, it had left him stymied. There were many points of interest within the article, such as one where Harry had upon entering the Leaky Cauldron and had completely changed the mindset of the people at the inn. That Harry could command such attention and sway public moods to such an extent by means of one speech was astounding. Secondly, his attitude towards the shopkeepers. It was nice to know that Harry was a humble boy. Though he and Minerva had frequently scouted out Little Whinging and kept tabs on Harry, other than ensuring his safety and knowing about his lifestyle in general, they did not have a single clue where the boy's personality and personal qualities were concerned.

It was his bond with the owl that had him really excited. Harry was powerful, or had the potential to grow into someone extremely powerful. Familiar bonds only manifested when the witch or wizard had the minimum amount of magic to facilitate the bond as it was for a lifetime, a permanent connection if you will. Although the quota of magical power that went into the formation was dependant on the creature you were forming the bond with, forming a bond such as Harry's required the equivalent of fifteen, maybe twenty patronuses worth of magic. At an age of eleven, the quantity was immense. Moreover, the magical core and the pathways needed to be able to take up the strain of handling that much at one go.

It was the reason why he had to wait for almost a year to form his bond with Fawkes. His pathways had been damaged and his magical core depleted after his duel with Gellert, which had lasted for more than six hours or so.

Fawkes had found him – how, he did not know – two days after the battle, seemingly when he had been drowning in both pain and depression. Forced to subjugate and sentence one of his best and childhood friend to prison had cost him a lot, both mentally and physically. It was impossible to from the bond immediately since his body would not be able to take the strain of the immense quantity of magic.

Harry on the other hand, had not even been tired! He had formed a bond with a magical post owl on a fly and walked away with a smile, not showing the slightest bit of magical drainage. This told him two things. Firstly, Harry's magic had been active; he had used it before. This was because magic was a muscle, the more you used it, the more powerful it became and hence, Harry' pathways were easily available to handle the strain of the magic.

Secondly, Harry would be mind-bogglingly powerful when he reached his magical maturity. From instances throughout history, magical power tended to multiply according to how early it happened. For him, it was at an age of sixteen and for Tom Riddle it was at fifteen and a half. His magic had increased by a factor of about three and if he had to hazard a guess for Tom, it was at least three and a half times. Harry's magic was already potent from what he could tell; it would be interesting to see how these forthcoming years played out.

"What do you think of Harry, Fawkes?" he asked the magnificent bird sitting on the armrest of his chair.

Fawkes looked into his eyes. The look in those intelligent orbs told him that his familiar was pleased with the boy. Dumbledore chuckled,

"Yes, he's an interesting boy, isn't he? I've invited him to come here after lunch, will you be there when he comes?"

Fawkes bobbed his head and then, with a look that could only be described as mischievous, swiped at Dumbledore's lemon sherbet with his beak, taking off out of the window with the remaining sweet. Dumbledore stared after him, blinking at the sudden departure and mentally thinking _'for an immortal thousand year old bird, he acts like a toddler sometimes.'_

His thoughts then went back to Harry. He had seemed to be at ease with himself last night, quiet but confident from what Albus could tell. Thankfully, it seemed that living at the Dursleys' hadn't put him down too bad and the boy had grown up nicely.

He wondered what Minerva was doing now, she must have finished talking to the Gryffindor first years by now. He had also given her instructions to ask Harry to come up to his office and accompany him there after lunch. He had some thinking to do, Harry was bound to demand some answers.

* * *

_2:30 pm, Great Hall. _

In the Great Hall, lunch had just concluded and the students were going up to their respective common rooms. Harry and Hermione were seated at their table, waiting for Professor McGonagall to pick Harry for their scheduled conversation in Dumbledore's office.

Hermione had understandably been confused when Harry had told her that he had a meeting with the Headmaster after lunch. When she asked about the reason, he gently headed her off, promising her that he would not leave her questions unanswered but that he did not want to discuss them at the moment. Hermione seemed to struggle will herself for a moment, before yielding. At the moment though, they were in conversation. As usual, Hermione was asking the questions and Harry was replying.

"So Harry, what do you think he wants to talk about?"

Harry could think about many things that Dumbledore would want to discuss, majority of which were not to be known outside of the little clique that only constituted of him, Dumbledore and _maybe_ McGonagall. Truly, he did not want to hide so many things from her. He could feel that she was fast becoming a close friend, and the paucity of them in Harry's life had left him unprepared for the situation he now found himself in. He did not want to lose her friendship over secrets. Nevertheless, he replied,

"I don't know exactly _what_ he wants to talk about, but I have a general idea."

Hermione only seemed to become more curious, so he sighed and continued.

"Hermione what I'm about to tell you is only the tip of the iceberg. The full details even I don't know, though I suspect that things will become clearer after today's talk. Due to reasons I can't tell you, Dumbledore and I suspect McGonagall too, have been keeping tabs on me since I was a baby."

Hermione's expression was now hovering between shock and confusion. Harry laughed as he spoke,

"I know, I was as shocked as you are now. Let me tell you, I was surprised as hell when I saw the creepy old man from my childhood sitting at the staff table, being all wise and majestic and happily twinkling away at the students. I had no idea that he was Albus Dumbledore of all people!"

Hermione also had a little smile on her face. Harry continued,

"Though, the fact remains that I don't want to hide things from you. Do you know anything about Occlumency, Hermione?"

Hermione smiled and spent a moment casting her prodigious mind about before replying. "Yes, but only in passing. It is something related to the defence of the mind, right?"

"Yes Hermione. Occlumency is actually an obscure concept which deals with the security of the mind. I know about this because I have practicing it since I was eight or so. It keeps intruders out of your mind, improves your mental capacity, not that you need it, now that I think about it. "

Here, Hermione blushed a bit.

"Now Occlumency is of two types, as is its counterpart, Legilimency. Whereas Occlumency protects the mind, Legilimency looks to overcome these defences. Occlumency may just protect your mind, that is passive Occlumency, or in return, your defences may be programmed to attack the probe in return, which is the active option. You following me so far?"

Hermione nodded her head while asking,

"And what of Legilimency?"

"I was just getting to that. Legilimency is also categorized similarly. Passive for skimming surface thoughts, which comprise of thoughts about day to day happenings, random bits of information and such. While active Legilimency requires a wand and is used to blast through Occlumency based defences and illegal, passive Occlumency can be performed without a wand and is the more insidious of the two."

Hermione interrupted him, "What are the uses?"

"Good question. While active Occlumency is used for interrogations and breaking minds, passive Occlumency is used mostly in duels. Occlumency masters can read the minds of their opponents and reply accordingly. In duels, magic which requires absolute concentration is used and hence, is bound to show up in your surface thoughts. A passive scan can read your intentions and your opponent or enemy has enough forewarning to repel your spell. Before you know it, you've lost the duel."

Hermione was deep in thought. "Why do you think I need to learn it, Harry?"

Harry looked into her eyes as he replied. "My secrets are of such a sensitive nature that some people would kill for it, Hermione. If I want to share them with you, and believe me I want to, you need to learn Occlumency. Besides, "here Harry had a cheeky smile, "don't you want to get thorough double the amount of books you are doing now?"

Hermione smiled at him as she replied, "So, instant recall, is it?"

Harry smirked in return. "Yes. Think about it. Instant recall and effective organization of information. Think about what you could do with those, Hermione."

"I wish to learn it, Harry. Will you help me?" Hermione's features had taken on a determined cast as she asked Harry the question.

Harry was more than happy to reply. "Of course, I'll lend you my notes. You'll need to read them before we get into any practicals. Unfortunately though, I have no way of testing those defences. In fact, I don't even know how strong my defences are."

'_Another thing to ask Dumbledore about, I suppose',_ he mentally thought.

At that moment, they were interrupted by a most unwelcome voice.

"Perhaps it is better that you did not speak to me on the train, Potter. At least Weasley is a pureblood and had the good sense not sit with _her. _A mudblood, honestly._"_

Draco Malfoy was standing there, the ever present smirk of superiority on his face and his ever present apes flanking him. The look he gave Hermione clearly showed what he thought of her.

Harry was now scowling. The git had to come and spoil his mood every now and then. He turned to face Malfoy.

"What do you want, Malfoy? Don't you have better things to do than to speak to us 'commoners and mudbloods'_, _as you put it?"

"No Potter, what I felt was that maybe you don't know your way around here. Living with those muggles may have impacted on your intelligence."

"What do you mean Malfoy?" Harry's expression was set.

"You would not have asked that question if you knew what was important, Potter. Your mother was the same way, a mudblood just like Granger here. Her soiled blood was what got her and your father killed."

Harry's visage was now blank and his magic was starting to react accordingly. He calmed himself down, enough to settle his magic. His eyes were like twin Avada Kedavras, though. He did have a reply, and a sharp one at that.

"Yes, your mother would know her way around I suppose, Malfoy? She must have exerted _so_ much _effort _to become Lady Malfoy, wife of Lord Lucius Malfoy. Though what kind of _effort, _is what I question."

Now Malfoy was the one paling.

"How dare you Potter! My mother was a Black before her marriage. That is a high enough lineage by itself!"

"Exactly Malfoy. Blacks are known for being beautiful and charming. Her charms must have attracted so many _admirers_. Who says that Lucius was the first one to, you know, _taste_ them? I keep hearing rumours."

Hermione, beside Harry was looking surprised at the vitriol that was spilling out of his mouth. He shot a look at her, letting her know not to say anything.

Malfoy cried, "Shut up Potter! My father will be after your blood once he hears of this. You dare insult my mother, the Lady Malfoy."

But Harry was on a roll now. He was going to show Malfoy what it meant to cross him. He was going to destroy him verbally.

"Ah yes, dear old Lucius. He is already after my blood, owing to his previous _occupation_. It makes no difference to me."

Draco's eyes widened. "What are you talking about, Potter? What Occupation?"

Harry chose to continue. "Malfoy, you ever wonder why you have no siblings? It's because your father is an ass licker, plain and simple. And his taste is _male _ass. He spent most of his life licking Voldemort's, after all. That was his occupation and the reason why he did not have time for your mother."

Malfoy was steaming red by now. Harry though, chose to fit one last nail in the coffin.

"I guess you were just an inconvenience, a mistake, born at the wrong time."

Malfoy was now close to tears. This conversation was not going the way he wanted. He had hoped to get a few pot shots at Potter, maybe some at the mudblood. Potter, however was more than up to the task and was thoroughly decimating him. Beside him, Crabbe and Goyle were open mouthed and staring at Harry. Hermione was also looking at him, wondering what was causing this dressing down.

Malfoy opened his mouth to reply, but just then was interrupted by another voice, this time a welcome one, for Harry and Hermione at least.

"What is going on here?" McGonagall was in full stride, and walking towards them. Harry replied to her question once she was within hearing distance.

"Nothing, Professor McGonagall. Draco and I were merely engaging ourselves in polite conversation. He wanted to ask what I thought Hogwarts and the wizarding world on general. Isn't it right, Draco?"

Malfoy had no other option but to agree. He slunk away in the directions of the dungeons, Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

McGonagall turned back to Harry after that. "So Mr Potter, what was really going on?"

Harry sighed before replying. "Professor, Draco Malfoy came here and started to insult Hermione and my Mum and Dad right off the bat. He made use of some really derogatory vocabulary and I merely replied back in the same vein. There was no use in going for wands and fists when words can do the trick."

McGonagall turned to Hermione.

"Is that true, Miss Granger?"

Hermione hesitated for a second before answering.

"Yes professor. Malfoy called me and Harry's mum 'mudblood'. I know that it's an insult of some kind and Harry returned the favour." _'He may have gone a bit overboard though', _she thought.

McGonagall sighed before asking Harry, "What did you say to him, Harry?"

Harry coloured a bit before responding. "I'm not proud of what I said Professor. I may have been a little too _passionate _in my reply."

McGonagall watched him with a beady eye before letting out almost a silent breath. "We'll talk about it in Professor Dumbledore's office. Come."

She began walking away, leaving Harry to catch up after her. Harry squeezed a worried Hermione's hand and whispered to her, "Don't worry Hermione, I'll be fine."

He jogged to the Entrance Hall where Professor McGonagall was waiting for him. She began climbing the stairs, him after her.

"Professor, if I may make a request?" he asked.

"Yes Harry?"

"Please don't take up the matter with Professor Snape. It'll only increase the hostility between the houses and he's more likely to favour Malfoy. I'll accept any punishment that you give me."

Minerva almost smiled. The boy was so much like his mother, it was uncanny.

"I'll think about it. But only after hearing the full details of that spat." Harry sighed, "I accept professor."

They continued to the seventh floor in silence after which they came to a door with bronze door knocker and a gargoyle of stone guarding it.

"Snickers." Harry started at the sweet's name. Before he could ask McGonagall about it, the door swung open. He turned an incredulous glance upon McGonagall, at which she explained, "His love of sweets is legendary Harry. And by that I mean _all kinds_ of sweets."

Harry stifled a laugh, remembering Dumbledore's reference to his Lemon Drops in the letter. They stepped on to a spiral staircase that began revolving around on its axis. Soon they reached a door and before Minerva could knock, a voice sounded from inside.

"Come in, Harry and Minerva."

-End-

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

- Harry was brutal wasn't he? That's the kind of protagonist I want, no matter whatever the genre and universe. Hard and abrasive towards enemies, soft towards friends and family. I figured, since Malfoy in canon and fanon tends to insult people by means of their parentage, how would he like to have the tables turned on him?

- No doubt, there will be some backlash. We'll see how Harry deals with it.

- Now, many of you must have noticed that I tend to describe a lot. That's because I'm writing this fic to both write on fanfiction and also to practise and improve my writing skills. If I can get feedback from people that have English as their native language while doing it, all the better.

- Thank you for the reviews and the stats. I couldn't help but notice that, the discrepancy between the no of people who have favourite my story and the no of reviews was substantial. Send in some feedback people! It boosts my ego for one, and acts like a horcrux for my muse. Hehe.

- Also, I got less reviews for the last chapter than for the one before that. I suppose that the no depends on the content of the chapter, right? Another statistical mystery to ponder upon, I suppose.

- The people left out in Dumbledore's introduction will be added. Thanks for the people who pointed it out! Leaving out Irma Pince and Trelawney out of it though. Filch and Septima Vector and some others will be added though. Thank you once again!

Please read and review.

Sincerely,

Lust of Alucard.


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